


Shenanigans (April 1975)

by rufus



Series: Shenanigans (April 1975) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 4th Year, April 1975, Community: wellymuck, Genderswap, M/M, MWPP, Prank War, Wellymuck 2006, de-age (mental)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufus/pseuds/rufus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: "Perhaps it may be a relic of the Roman 'Cerealia,' held at the beginning of April. The tale is that Proserpina was sporting in the Elysian meadows, and had just filled her lap with daffodils, when Pluto carried her off to the lower world. Her mother, Ceres, heard the echo of her screams, and went in search of 'the voice;' but her search was a fool's errand, it was hunting the gowk, or looking for the 'echo of a scream.'" "April Fool." Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898.</p><p>Warnings: Sirius is a bit of git; people are trapped in enclosed spaces; references implying Sirius being mistreated at home.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Pranksters Folly

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Perhaps it may be a relic of the Roman 'Cerealia,' held at the beginning of April. The tale is that Proserpina was sporting in the Elysian meadows, and had just filled her lap with daffodils, when Pluto carried her off to the lower world. Her mother, Ceres, heard the echo of her screams, and went in search of 'the voice;' but her search was a fool's errand, it was hunting the gowk, or looking for the 'echo of a scream.'" "April Fool." Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898.
> 
> Warnings: Sirius is a bit of git; people are trapped in enclosed spaces; references implying Sirius being mistreated at home.

"Right, men," James whispered, and hissed a soft lumos, partially illuminating the broom closet they were hiding in. Remus narrowed his eyes against the light and settled down on top of his overturned bucket. "Supply check – Cloak?"

"Check," Sirius said, holding out a clenched fist and shaking something that made a soft shushing noise. He had come off the train five hours earlier pale and ash-smudged, his snarled, dirty hair pulled tightly away from his face, wearing a pair of ratty old robes. Now, in the dimness, he looked even more like a wild man. _Feral_ , Remus thought, and hunched his shoulders. Remus had pulled James aside after a tense, unhappy dinner, but had got nothing but a pinched look and a shrug in response to his questions. And talking to Sirius had similarly gotten him nowhere.

"Paste?" James said, and twisted his head towards Peter, who held out four small jars, smiling. James was freckled and peeling after two weeks at a Wizarding resort on Tenerife, and had spent most of dinner complaining that he was going to be finding sand in his robes for _weeks_ , while Sirius glowered over his liver and chicken pie and Peter told several involved stories about his daft Cornish cousins. Remus had glanced over at the Slytherin table once and noticed Regulus Black was sitting further away from Rosier, Snape and the Lestrange than he usually did, and that he looked somewhat tense around the mouth. But his pale red hair was neatly combed and tied back in a black ribbon, and his robes were spotless.

"Fuel?" James said, and turned to Remus, who held out four small baskets of leftover Easter candy, all including one enormous chocolate egg for each of them. Peter made a faint noise of appreciation and Sirius grunted. 

"Bags on the chocolate orange, if there is one," James said, and dropped into a low crouch. "Right, that's everything. I'll go first – do the Slytherin table – give us the cloak, Sirius," he added. Remus heard a faint murmur and then James disappeared. The door creaked open as he left, and then slid back with soft click, and they were left in darkness. 

"Give us the choccies then, Remus," Sirius said, Remus felt bony fingers bouncing off his knee in the darkness, and a suddenly cool space by his ankle when Sirius found the baskets. There was more crinkling and rustling as Sirius opened one of the packets of candy.

"Bags on the Hufflepuff table," Peter whispered, after a minute's silence. 

"Who is it you're sweet on this time, Pettigrew?" Sirius asked, and Remus felt rather than saw Peter blushing. 

"Doesn't matter," Peter muttered, and Remus heard the faint scrape of metal on stone that meant Peter had twisted away from Sirius while still sitting on his mop bucket.

"Still York, I reckon," Sirius continued, unruffled, a hint of amusement in his tone. Remus could hear him chewing and swallowing, abnormally loud in the dark cupboard. "She's quite fit. Or perhaps Jones or Brambles? I hear she can suck a–"

"You _shut up_ ," Peter hissed, the bucket scraping the floor again.

"—lolly all day," Sirius continued. "Loves to get to the creamy –" 

"I told you to _shut it_ ," Peter said, and Remus reached out, found Sirius' wrist and squeezed, but Sirius didn't seem to notice.

"—center," he added, as though Peter hadn't spoken. "Keeps a stash in Greenhouse 4, is the rumor –" he continued, and Remus heard a low growl come from Peter.

Then the door popped open, and a rumpled James appeared, a faint light coming from his wand, revealing Peter standing up, fists clenched, and Sirius smirking around a crème egg.

"Wanker," Peter muttered, and turned to James. "I'll go next," he said, picking up another one of the small pots and taking the cloak from James' hand before stomping out the door. 

"You are an _ass_ ," Remus said, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Mother, I'll be nicer next time," he drawled, and Remus found he was sorely tempted to throw the candy bar he was holding directly into Sirius' face.

"What—" James began, turning to squint at Sirius. 

"Big girl's blouse is what he is. What d'ye reckon, James?" Sirius said, waving his hand, and ate the rest of the egg.

"Ragweed," James said, grinning broadly, "ribwort, stinging nettles, and white bryony."

"You _have_ been paying attention in Herbology," Remus murmured, unwrapping his own crème egg, not looking at Sirius. 

"Daisies, for Snape – big red ones – lilacs for Rosier, sunflowers for the Lestranges, and geraniums for Regulus," James added, and Sirius nodded, smiling faintly.

**

The next morning, Remus carefully picked yellow rose petals out of his porridge and decided that, all things considered, the prank had come off rather well. McGonagall had almost smiled at the thistles bravely poking their spikey noses up from between the stone tiles at her feet, and Dumbledore had been seen to be openly twinkling at the yellow roses climbing the back of his chair. Even Lily Evans had only made a token complaint when her seat bloomed into a riot of tiger lilies and snap dragons. The Slytherins had been satisfactorily horrified by (and in some cases, violently allergic to) their table, and the entirety of Hufflepuff had been very pleased to find their table and benches sprouting eight different kinds of red roses. 

"Remus, what're these?" Sirius asked, elbowing him in the side, and shoving something yellow under his nose. 

"Daffodils," Remus said, pulling back for a better look, "my mother likes them." 

"Hmm," Sirius said, and picked up a piece of bacon. He had bathed that morning, and was wearing clean clothes, but there was still an air of suppressed wildness about him. Across the table, Peter was suspiciously silent, his eyes fixed on his cereal, and James looked gleeful.

"Sirius –" Remus began, intending to ask _What the hell is the matter with you?_ but was interrupted by the arrival of a small brown owl, struggling under the weight of what looked like an Easter basket.

"Crème eggs!" Sirius murmured, slipping the bird half a strip of bacon and relieving it of its burden.

"One for each of us," Peter said, and darted his hand out for his prize.

"Who's it from?" Remus asked, reaching for the card, but Sirius batted his hand away.

"From an admirer, apparently," he said, " a very shy admirer."

"But – we shouldn't –" Remus began, but Peter and James were already chewing, eyes half-closed.

"Probably a Ravenclaw," Sirius said, and popped his egg in his mouth. "The brainy ones are always shy."

Remus picked up his egg and tapped it with his wand, but nothing happened. He sniffed it, and detected only chocolate and tinny wrapping. He unwrapped it carefully and nibbled at the top, but it only tasted of chocolate. 

"Eat your bloody egg, you old woman," Sirius growled in his ear, just as the bell rang for the first class of the day.

**

Some time later, Remus was roused from a dream about Elfwine, King of the Goblins, dancing Swan Lake in full armor by a sharp paper corner to the nose. He was also dimly aware his back itched – the skin felt tender and sore, even four days after the moon.

 _Where **are** they?_ the note said, in Peter's scrawly handwriting. 

_Bog?_ Remus wrote back, scratching a scar on his forearm absentmindedly, and waved the note over the head of a dozing Hufflepuff. He shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. His entire lower back suddenly ached.

Two minutes later Peter's crumpled note bounced off his shoulder.

 _That was an hour ago._ Remus glanced up at the clock – class was almost over -- and turned his head to look at Peter, who was sitting next to York, rubbing furiously at his ears.

 _Binns locked them out?_ Remus scribbled, and sent the note back. He heard a muffled snort from the other side of the room, but no reply was sent.

Twenty minutes later, Remus exited the classroom in time to see Rosier, the taller Lestrange and Parkinson gathered in a black and green knot in front of a broom cupboard. He noted their wands were already out, and picked up his pace, wondering who they had cornered.

"Bet he's crying like a girl," Rosier said, and the Lestrange smirked as he tapped the knob with his wand and the door popped open, revealing two figures, one sitting on a bucket, hands folded in its lap, the second slumped against a wall.

Remus had enough time to note _black hair, fair, skinny_ before the one on the bucket launched itself at Rosier and knocked the other Slytherins aside like ninepins. Remus caught a glimpse as Rosier rolled them over -- one arm up defending his face, the other raining flat-handed blows as best he could – of the soft swell of a bosom beneath the Gryffindor tie and blinked in surprise. Whoever she was, she could curse as well as James and had a wicked arm – actually, he thought, there was only one black-haired Gryffindor girl who fit that description.

"Maggie!" Remus said, wading in and hooking one arm around the Gryffindor waist and yanking, pressing his head between narrow shoulderblades to avoid windmilling fists. "Maggie, stop. Ow! It's Remus, don't hit _me_." He stepped backwards, dodging the growing crowd, before releasing his prisoner.

"What happened, Maggie?" he asked, sucking in a deep breath. His back hurt worse than ever. The girl turned to face him, and he realized two things: first, that Maggie Murphy had green eyes, not grey ones, as this girl did, and secondly, that someone was standing on his tail.


	2. Ears, Tails and Tits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of the prank war include: Sirius is a girl, Remus has a tail, James is mute, and Peter has donkey ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 2  
> (but  
>  true  
>  to the incomparable  
>  couch of death thy  
>  rhythmic  
>  lover  
>  thou answerest  
>  them only with  
>  spring)  
>  \- e. e. cummings
> 
> I again had an attack of rabid English majorness and went hunting for the whole poem, which as it turned out is manifestly appropriate for this chunk of the story. And you may find it [here](http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/945.html).
> 
> Warnings: Gender-swap

_Tail_ , Remus thought, dimly aware he couldn't breathe. _Tail._ He staggered back a little, away from the strange girl, the not-Maggie, and tried to think. The wolf wasn't supposed to come through by itself outside of the Full Moon, it wasn't, the doctors all agreed. He had checked his fingernails obsessively for fifteen years and they had not yet become claws, no matter how angry he got. But his throbbing lower back was dutifully informing him that _someone was standing on his tail._

"Remus," said the girl, and he looked up. Something about her face, the inquisitive arch of her eyebrow, was very – familiar. His lower back twinged again and he turned around to find Peter behind him, mouth open in shock. He had one hand on his left ear and his other hand stretched out before him, gesturing at the girl. 

"Get off of my tail, Pettigrew," he said, as calmly as he could manage. Peter looked at him blankly and then down at his feet. Remus looked down, too, and was surprised to discover that his tail didn't look like a wolf tail. It was grey, certainly, but the –fur – was long and looked soft and fluffy. It looked, in fact, a good deal like the tail of Shadrach, the Persian cat at the village bookshop at home. Peter blinked an apology and shifted to the left, and Remus felt some of the pain ease.

"Ears," said the girl, her eyes now very wide. 

"Tits!" Peter said, and put his hand over his mouth. The girl arched her other eyebrow and one thin hand floated up to rest on her chest.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" someone roared behind them, and the crowd parted to reveal Frank Longbottom, his Head Boy badge gleaming brightly. The bodies rolling on the floor stilled and separated. Remus watched James bounce to his feet, his mouth moving.

"Rosier and Parkinson locked James and I in a broom cupboard," the girl said, pushing past Remus and Peter. 

"And who might _you_ be? And why are you wearing a Gryffindor tie? Potter –" Frank began, turning to James, who was now purple in the face, and had raised one hand to claw at his throat. Rosier and Parkinson remained on the floor, Rosier's fair hair fanned out over the stone tiles. Remus wondered if he practiced that pose down in the dungeons. A nearby student – Remus couldn't quite make out who it was – crouched down and leaned over to talk to them.

"Breathe, man," Frank said, clapping him hard on the back, and James leaned forward, his shoulders shaking. "Get up, you lot," Frank added, turning to the Slytherins, and Parkinson groaned loudly.

"What do you mean, who am I?" the girl snapped, her chin coming up. Remus realized with dawning horror that he recognized that gesture, that he had seen at least once a week since First Year –

"Sirius," he said, and the girl turned around, one hand still pressed against her bosom, the other clenched against her stomach, her face wearing an expression of baffled anger.

"We were viciously attacked by the Gryffindors while on the way to lunch," Rosier said, pushing himself half-way up. The figure crouching next to him looked up and Remus realized it was Regulus Black. And that he was staring at Sirius as if he had seen a ghost.

"You never were, you bloody great liar," Peter said, pushing past Remus. 

"Insolent half-blood," Parkinson said, rolling to his feet, eyes narrowed. James straightened up abruptly and grabbed Parkinson by his tie and yanked hard enough to make the other boy cry out.

"ENOUGH!" Frank roared, and James released Parkinson, mouthing something that Remus suspected was insulting. "Right, Hospital Wing, all of you. Move along," he added, prodding at James.

**

"Never seen anything quite like it," Madame Pomfrey murmured, her fingertips moving slowly around the base of his tail, and Remus snorted into the pillow. She had given him a potion for the backache, which made the world feel slightly fuzzy. His whole body felt loose, tail or no tail, and her fingers left trails of prickly warmth wherever they roamed. He had the vague feeling that he probably shouldn't get up any time soon.

"You didn't happen to catch the hex they used, did you?" Pomfrey asked, and Remus shook his head. 

"No hex," Peter supplied, from the next bed over. "Slimy, sneaky –"

"Eggs," Remus said to the pillow, and Pomfrey made an inquisitive noise. "Eggs," he said, again, raising his head. "At breakfast. We all ate them. _Told_ Sirius not to. Potion, probably," he added, and dropped his head. He felt the bed dip as Pomfrey turned towards Peter again.

"Crème eggs," Peter said, with a happy sigh. "One for each of us. From a secret admirer."

"I see," Pomfrey murmured, and Remus sighed deeply into his pillow. The bed creaked as Pomfrey stood up, and he felt those lovely fingertips wind coil his tail up and slide his pants and trousers back up over his hips. There was a brief silence and then the rattle of curtain hooks, and gust of antiseptic scented air.

"Bloody gits, giving me donkey ears," Peter said, and Remus made an amused noise and rolled over onto his side. Peter was perched on the edge of his bed, his hair tilted forwards. He did, in fact, have donkey's ears, and they were standing straight up through his blond curls, though one was swiveled towards the curtain shrouded beds where Sirius and James were being examined. Remus thought about making a comment on the relative merits of being granted donkey ears instead of a tail, but fell asleep before he could form all of the words.

**

"Well, gentlemen, you seem to have had quite an – adventure," the Headmaster said, leaning back into his chair and steepling his fingers. Remus glanced to the right and noticed that both of Peter's ears were laid flat against his head, and James was tight-lipped. Sirius was busy staring at his knees. He had slept through Sirius' encounter with Pomfrey, but according to Peter it had been – quite loud. He swung his eyes to the left and saw that Rosier and Parkinson were relaxed in their chairs; Rosier's ordinarily handsome face was distorted by a purpling black eye and a smirk.

"They were attacked, sir," McGonagall said, from behind Remus' head. "It was, for once, completely unprovoked."

"I hardly think so," Slughorn murmured, off to the left. "Surely you noticed the state of the Slytherin table this morning, Minerva –"

"A bit of vegetation," McGonagall sniffed, and Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly.

"I don't call a nearly full-grown Venemous Tentacula _a bit of vegetation_ ," Slughorn added, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Remus glanced over at James and saw his lips curve, briefly, into a broad grin.

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore said, "locking fellow students in broom closets is hardly an appropriate response. To say nothing of –"

"Rosier and Parkinson have both professed their innocence and ignorance of –" Slughorn waved his hand at the four Gryffindors, and Remus heard a muffled snort come from Sirius' general direction. "I gave them both a weeks detention with Hagrid," Slughorn added. "I'm sure that will be an adequate deterrant."

"I see," Dumbledore said, and leaned forward. "I will speak to Hagrid directly, in that case. You are excused, Mr. Rosier, Mr. Parkinson." In the long silence that marked the departure of the Slytherins, Remus couldn't help but notice that Rosier's smirk had faded somewhat at the idea that Dumbledore would have some influence over their week with Hagrid. 

"Now, as for you, gentlemen," Dumbledore began, and turned towards Slughorn. "Horace?" 

"Antidotes take a week to brew, all the way around," Slughorn said, and Remus heard Peter make a small noise. "Sorry, lads, that's the way of the thing," he added, smiling in a way that was probably meant to be apologetic, but mainly looked triumphant. "Speaking of which, I had best go and tend to my brewing." He pushed himself up slowly, his flesh rippling under his robes. 

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said, and McGonagall murmured something under her breath that might have been _Sweet dreams ye old sod_ , but Remus wasn't really sure.

"A _week_?" Peter said, when the Potions Master had departed. James made a truly terrifying face, and Sirius just looked resigned.

"So it would seem, though I will ask Professor Slughorn to make all possible haste," the Headmaster said. "Meanwhile, Madame Pomfrey assures me you are all in reasonable health, and can return to your dormitory and to your classes, should you so desire. This choice most greatly affects you, Mr. Black, given the nature of your – transformation," he continued, turning towards Sirius.

"I'll go to class," Sirius said, his chin coming up again. "We all will, right, lads?" Remus found himself nodding along with James and Peter, even if the question did sound strange in higher, clearer tones than Sirius usually managed.

"I'll sleep in my own bed, as well," Peter said, his ears flattening again, and there was a general murmur of agreement.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, "Sherbert lemon, anyone? No? Well, then I shall see all of you at breakfast tomorrow."

**

Some time later, when they were back in the Tower, after James had retreated to his bed with a Quidditch magazine, Peter had settled down with a new comic book, and Sirius had vanished into the bathroom with a determined expression on his face, Remus heard a faint knock at the door.

"It's open," Peter said, not looking up, and Lily Evans walked in, Maggie Murphy on her heels. 

"Er, hello," Remus said, and Lily flashed him a smile.

"Came to see Black, actually," Maggie said, and Lily nodded, chewing on her lip.

"Oh, he's – hold on –" Remus said, and moved to knock on the bathroom door.

"Bugger off," Sirius said, and Remus grinned.

"Evans and Murphy are here to see you," Peter shouted, and Remus backed up in time to avoid having the door hit him in the face when Sirius emerged, holding his robes closed with one hand. 

"Right," Maggie said, and held out what looked quite like a small hand mirror. Sirius looked at it, and back to her, before reaching out for it.

"What's this, then?" he snapped.

"You'll never get a proper look at it otherwise," Lily said, and Maggie giggled into her hand. Sirius looked at her for a long moment and then flushed bright pink.

"May as well, you know, never know when you'll have the opportunity again," Maggie said, snickering. 

"'night, everyone," Lily said, and they were gone.

"Look at what?" Peter said, and James threw a pillow at his head.


	3. A Time for Handwriting Analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 3 and 4: Spring weather is tricky, be sure to wear layers, including a good jumper and pink rhododendron bushes.
> 
> Warnings: Sirius receives hatemail containing crude suggestions from horrible people.

_April 2, 1975_

_Dear Puppy,_

_Enclosed please find some items I think you may find useful. The pants you may keep or chuck, as you wish. The Morgana's Miracle Bras I'm keeping for Dora when her time comes around, so I'll have them back , properly laundered, when you're finished with them._

_Also, word on the party-Floo is Papa is missing some key vials from his stores. In other news, I found Everose and Sugalump weeping and ironing their fingers in my kitchen this morning. I am now drowning in baked goods, and it is all your fault._

_Love,_

_Andromeda_

_p.s. Dora sends you sticky fingered greetings. She is smeared with chocolate already, and that is also your fault._

_Sirius,_

_You may wish to check certain articles of clothing for locking charms before you put them on. Merlin knows I could never get the damned things undone without a wand._

_Also, bear in mind that Ravenclaws will do nearly anything in the name of research, and they are discreet to a man. (Or woman, if that catches your fancy. Modern life, and all.) However, Hufflepuffs are not so understanding._

_Good luck, mate._

_Ted_

**

_Greenhouse 4, 6 PM._

_p.s. Don't wear any knickers._

Sirius stared at the note for a moment, absorbing the heavy paper and neatly lettered script, before crumpling it up and stuffing it in his pocket.

Across the table, James mimed a hooked nose, slashing his throat and ate a sausage, all at the same time. Peter's ears were swiveled outwards, one facing each end of the table. Beside him, Remus was making short work of a runny egg and toast soldiers, his tail no more than a series of fat ridges around his waist, barely visible through his robes. He had taken to wearing it that way after three different people had stepped on it on the way down to breakfast. 

"Possibly," Sirius said, and James arched both eyebrows.

_Greenhouse 3, 4 PM._

_p.s. Is your hair the same colour all over?_

"Of course it is," he muttered, half to himself, and shoved the note in the same pocket as the other one.

"Well, who else would it be?" Peter said, flicking one ear towards him. "The antidotes are taking a week 'cause Sluggy has to work out what bloody Snape put in the damn potions in the first place."

"Rabbie Lestrange, maybe," Remus said, cutting a corporal off at the waist with a neat downward motion of his wrist.

"Rabbie Lestrange can't brew himself a cup of tea, never mind make James' voice disappear for a week," Sirius said, stirring his porridge. Two more notes were fluttering at his elbow, but he decided to ignore them and see if they would go away. 

"But – he's usually right behind Snape, in class," Remus began, shaking his hair back to look Sirius in the eye. He had grown it out considerably during Term Break ( _Practicing my Rapunzel charms_ , he said, when they came back) and McGonagall's beady looks notwithstanding, was still well past his shoulders. 

"Bulstrode helps him -- does it to annoy Snape," Sirius said, and shrugged. "The things you learn at family dinners. Anyway, potions aren't Rabbie's style. He's much more keen on fancy wand work and duels at dawn."

James thumped the table loudly, causing several goblets to rock back and forth, and gestured at Sirius' elbow, where a small squadron of notes were flying in formation.

_Greenhouse 2, 9 PM_

_p.s. I prefer red silk on a woman. See to it, will you?_

_Greenhouse 5, 8 PM_

_p.s. I hear you're good with your hands. How are you with your mouth?_

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly very aware of all of the lace on his bra. _But not my pants_ , he thought, and felt a surge of gratitude for Andromeda and her fascination for plain cotton underthings.

_I am not a girl. I am still me_ , he thought, as James lunged across the table and made a grab for the notes. Batting away James' questing fingers he got them all crumpled up in his pocket just as the class bell rang.

"Fuck off, Potter," he said, to James' outraged expression, and Peter started talking about quintapods to lighten the mood.

**  
Outside it was cool and windy, with a hint of rain in the air. Sirius pulled his hands inside his jumper and huddled in his robes as he picked his way down the path to Kettleburn's pens behind Remus and Peter. He felt sore and itchy all over, from the unfamiliar lace and clothes that were suddenly either too large or too small, and from lack of sleep. He had rolled from one side of the bed to the other all night, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, and alternately distracted by James' lack of snoring and Remus' tail curled over his nose, the tip-end fluttering softly as he breathed. 

He was so busy thinking about Remus' tail – he had finally been allowed to touch it that morning, and it was startling warm and silky – that he almost ran into Remus himself, stopped on the path next to a bush with pink flowers. Peter was further ahead, deep in conversation with a Ravenclaw girl.

"Look, it really is jumper weather," Remus said, and leaned over to sniff at a flower, smiling faintly. 

"What?" Sirius said, and realized he had a second squadron of notes preparing to dive-bomb his left shoulder. He reached up and grabbed them, obscurely glad he had worn layers and would have lots of pockets to stash them in.

"The leaves, they're all curled up, because they're cold," Remus said, pulling a branch up to eye level. "There's a shrubbery like this outside the front door at home – Mum checks every morning before Dad leaves for work. If they're open, he can do without a jumper, but if they're closed she makes him take one."

"But you aren't wearing a jumper," Sirius said, after a minute, rubbing his eyes against the urge to curl up in a warm place. Or maybe a cold place; he wondered if he would fit under the bush and if Kettleburn would notice. Surely the leaves wouldn't mind.

"I have a tail to keep me warm. Do those notes say anything interesting?" Remus asked, leaning forward slightly, one hand drifting over Sirius' shoulder.

"No, they're just – oi!" But James, who had been right behind him (this was something he suspected that their tormentor had not considered, that a muted James might actually learn to be _stealthy_ ) had grabbed a straggler and was unfolding it quickly, his body hunched over his hands. Whatever he read there caused him to flush pink and press his lips firmly together. Remus arched an eyebrow at both of them.

James held out the note, and Remus snaffled it before Sirius could stop him, and there was a long silence, while he read it.

"I see," he said, softly, and folded the note neatly before handing it back to Sirius, and smoothing his robes down carefully. "The others are much the same, I take it?"

Sirius nodded, slowly, not daring to look up. And then there was a hand on his shoulder – James' hand – shoving him down the hill and squeezing at the same time, and Sirius looked up long enough to see Remus' eyes were mostly yellow. He coughed, as a warning, and Remus blinked slowly, and the yellow receded. James gave him another little shove, as if they were playing, and they half-walked, half-fell down to where Peter was waiting for them, ears flicked forward.

**

"All in the same handwriting?" Remus asked, quietly, after they had shuffled around into their usual places – Peter acting as a windbreak, James as close to Evans as possible – and Kettleburn had gone to let the quintapods out of the shed.

"I – didn't read all of them," Sirius said, and Remus made an understanding noise.

"Give us a couple, hmm?" he said, and made a clucking noise when Sirius jerked away.

"Tutoring, you berk. I help with essays. From _all_ the Houses," he added, darkly. Sirius sighed, turned his pockets out into Remus' cupped hands. For a while he half-listened to Kettleburn and half –watched Remus sort the bits of paper into little floating piles, and turned Andromeda's note over in his mind, but eventually he let his head fall forward to rest between Peter's broad shoulders, and settled in for a nap.

He was awakened some time later by Remus hissing a series of names in his ear.

"Rosier, Parkinson, Carrow, Flint, both Lestranges, Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode," he said. "And two from O'Hara, suggesting you learn some make-up charms and that you would look awfully sweet in pin-curls."

"No," Sirius said, horrified, and felt Peter shake with a suppressed chuckle.

"And – I didn't read it, I recognized it right off – one from Regulus," Remus added, pressing a piece of parchment into Sirius' hands.

_Sirius,_

_Papa's pocket, tomorrow, 8 PM. Come alone._

_Regulus_

_p.s. You look just like Granny Melania. It's bloody disturbing._

_p.p.s. What's it like, having a fanny? Alecto won't tell me._


	4. Lunar Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 5 Song: "The Moon is Down" by Explosions in the Sky (instrumental)
> 
> WARNINGS:. Sirius is still a girl. Remus does some, er, naughty things  with his tail. Discussion of really awful Black family traditions and wanking.

"It's all your fault, you know," Regulus said, not looking up from his Astronomy homework. It looked like he – or someone – had Transfigured his school robes into a large pillow. Sirius turned his back and folded the Cloak neatly before stuffing it into his satchel. After two days of being watched, constantly, being able to walk through the Castle completely unseen had been rather comforting.

"It usually is," Sirius said, and sat down on the floor, pressing his back against the curved wall of the Astronomy Tower. He tilted his head back and squinted out one of the windows – it was possible, barely, to see a bit of Orion's belt. He felt something in his chest tighten and turned to look at his brother. In the moonlight he looked very like a smaller, paler version of their father.

"House Elves get old, Sirius, and when they get old, we have to kill them," Regulus said, and sighed. He was quiet for a moment, writing, and Sirius turned his face back to the window. He smiled, thinking of times they had sat on the nursery window and waved to their father, always there, watching over them, even when he had been somewhere far away, like Egypt.

"She'd fed me – and _you_ – since – since -- since forever," Sirius said, after a while, and Regulus made an irritated noise.

"She dropped the tea tray, " Regulus said, looking up, and Sirius noticed the ink smudges on his narrow face.

"It was that or let Aunt Lucretia impale herself on the good silver teapot, the drunken old bat," Sirius muttered, and his brother snorted with amusement. 

"But still, she knew the rules, Sirius, they all do, " Regulus said, after a long silence. "Auntie Druella was in the right, and you making that terrible scene was just so unnecessary."

"I just asked that they take her in the kitchen," Sirius said, and swallowed carefully. "There's killing, Regulus, and – then there's killing."

"The rest of them have to learn somehow," Regulus murmured, flipping over a page of his notebook. "I was just sorry the soup was ruined. Potato leek is my favorite."

"Right, well, the next time Auntie Druella holds me at wandpoint and commands me to decapitate a House Elf, I'll be sure to aim for the pudding!" Sirius snapped, the ache in chest chased away by anger and the urge to throw his brother down the stairs. He rolled to his knees and started to push himself up.

"You can't leave yet," Regulus said, his lower lip sliding forward in a pout. "I still have half an hour left, and you haven't answered my last question. You have to tell me about having a fanny."

"It's – awkward. Messy. Can't use the loo properly," Sirius said, and grinned at Regulus' wide-eyed expression.

"Have you – you know?" Regulus said, recovering, making a vague hand gesture and, Sirius thought, a very poor attempt at a leer. 

"'Course," Sirius muttered, feeling himself flush. "First night. It was – different. More – complicated. More – " be began, and sighed. James had asked the same questions, half through Peter and Remus, half through use of inventive gestures, but somehow that had been almost fun, like prank reconnaissance, not like an interrogation. Under his brother's moon-bright gaze, he wanted to pull his knees up to his chest and disappear. He shook his head and waved a hand, hoping Regulus would somehow understand. _More wet, more sensitive, I kept getting lost, and it felt good but afterwards I still couldn't sleep. The mirror did help, though._

"Alecto said she uses – things – sometimes," Regulus said, inching further forward. "She said that's why girls go on kitchen raids, to get the good vegetables. She said for me to tell you that carrots –"

" _Regulus,_ " Sirius began, lifting one hand in protest. He pictured Alecto Carrow in his mind, brandishing a carrot, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"—and candles, also, those work well. You haven't let anyone else touch it, have you?" Regulus give him a sharp look that reminded him of their mother.

"Er, no," Sirius said, "It's only been two days, and –"

"You're not to let any of the mudbloods or half-breeds touch it, Sirius, or I shall have to cut their hands off," Regulus said, in a level, firm tone. "Or Potter," he added, looking back down at his homework. 

"I – James – we –" Sirius spluttered, and Regulus glanced up briefly, his thin lips curved in a smirk.

Sirius was about to expand on that thought when he heard the distant clatter of approaching students, and yanked the Cloak out of his satchel and over his shoulders.

"Until next week, sister," Regulus said, and squeaked when Sirius threw an exploding hex at his pillow on his way out of the door.

**

Meanwhile, back in Gryffindor Tower, Remus was stretched out on his bed, naked, homework done, stomach pleasantly full after a kitchen raid, and warm from the bath. James and Peter had decamped for the Common Room, to wait for Sirius so they could inform him of what the Slytherins had coming to them the next morning, and because it was Remus' night to have the room to himself. James had made the rule early in 3rd year, that each of them would have one night per week with an empty room and the best locking charm they could manage. 

The window was open, admitting a cool breeze, and he had spread his hair out over the pillow to dry and turned the wireless to a classical station. His tail was neatly coiled on his belly, the tip twitching periodically. Remus closed his eyes and stretched, smiling at the faint twinges of straining muscles, and then settled a hand on his chest, fingers aligned with remains of claw marks left by the wolf, and concentrated on uncurling his tail, until he felt the edge whisk against his toes, feather-light and soft. Eyes still closed he moved it up his legs slowly, tickling the sides of his knobby knees until he gave in and laughed and jerked away. 

Eventually he brought it back, letting it ghost over his hips and chest, until it came to rest between his jaw and his shoulder. He turned his head and nuzzled it, sneezing as some of the fine hair went up his nose. After a minute he sent it back down to his belly, and then let it idle between his legs, drifting up one thigh and down the other, while he tapped the coverlet to the rhythym of the marching beat in the music, until he was covered in goosbumps and was sure all of the blood in his body had pooled there. He laid his hands flat on the bed and concentrated first on pressure and then on movement, humming quietly to himself, until ( _softwarmohmerlin_ ) he couldn't think anymore, about anything. 

Afterwards he lay still, smiling, until he began to shiver from cold. He reached out to his nightstand and fumbled around for his wand, and picked it up long enough to cast a quick Scourgify before rolling up in the bed covers and falling into a contented sleep.

Some time later he felt the bed dip, and someone turned the wireless off.

"Hmph?" he said, rolling towards the weight. He butted it with his head, and it smelled of cold, and dust, and Sirius.

"You're naked, Remus," Sirius whispered, sounding vaguely shocked.

"Mmm-hmm," he agreed, and grinned into the tip of his tail. He thought about waving his tail under Sirius' nose and was rewarded with a startled laugh, and a gentle pressure that was probably Sirius' fingers. 

"How, er, was it?" Sirius asked, and Remus giggled. Sirius was petting his tail, and it was giving him goosebumps.

"'s good," he whispered, "much better than at St. Mungo's. Good idea."

"You do – that – at _St. Mungo's?_ " Sirius hissed, and Remus shrugged.

"Mmm," he said, half aware he would regret sharing this information in the morning. "Have to make sure everything works. Part of the physical."

There was a long silence, and Remus tilted his head up, half afraid of what he would see. But Sirius was just looking out the window, his face quite still. 

"Did you see James and Peter?" Remus said, after a while, and Sirius nodded, but continued to look out the window. 

"Let you sleep," Sirius said, after a minute, and stood up. Remus grunted, though he was awake enough to tell something was wrong, and suspect, stomach sinking, that it was something he had said. He lay in miserable silence for a while, unsure of where to start the conversation, until he felt the bed dip again, and a Sirius-sized warmth settled near his feet. 

"'night, Moony," Sirius said.

"'night, Sirius," Remus murmured, and listened to his breathing slow and deepen before falling back to sleep himself.


	5. Drills and Chills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 6 Picture: Red umbrella abandoned in the street.
> 
> WARNINGS: capslock!Sirius, towards the end, and implied abuse.
> 
> Other notes: Um, may have very little obvious connection to the prompt. But I did the best I could. Also, "bint" means, roughly, a woman or girl who is a snotty wee bitch.

"TWEEEEET!"

Remus jerked awake so fast he fell out of bed. _Whistle_ , he thought, pressing his forehead against his mattress. It was still dark out, and he could hear rain pattering off the windows. Who was blowing a whistle at this hour, in this weather?

"GRYFFINDOR! BROOMS OUT!" some said – bellowed, really; he detected the effects of a Sonorous charm. _Longbottom_ , he thought, and sighed. 

"Bugger OFF," Sirius said, quite loudly, and Peter made a muffled unhappy noise. Remus pushed himself up in time to see James give the door a two-fingered salute. But Longbottom continued to blow his whistle until they had staggered out of bed and into their clothes and shoes and joined the 5th, 6th and 7th years on the steps outside their dormitory door. Frank was standing at the bottom, the archway behind him shimmering with a silencing charm. The younger children were evidently being allowed a lie-in. 

"TWENTY MINUTES!" Longbottom said, and Remus saw Alice Prewitt reach up and tap at the hand holding his wand to his throat. "Twenty minutes," he repeated, at a slightly lower volume. "In the field, you would all be dead by now."

" _Dark_ out," someone said, further up the stairs, and Remus yawned in agreement. 

" _Raining_ ," someone else said, sounding peevish.

"Do you think Death Eaters are going to wait for you cook your breakfast and open your brolly?" Frank said, scanning the crowd, and there was a general rustling and shuffling.and hunching of shoulders. "Right. Off we go – quickly now," he added, and turned smartly on his heel and, setting a marching pace, led them out of the Tower and through the cold, quiet corridors (Sirius grumbled that _even the portraits were still asleep_ ) to the front door, and then out into the heavy drizzle, navigating by dim wand-light past the rain-blackened trees and over puddle-studded path to the Quidditch pitch.

"Stretch out, sixth and seventh years, and then ten laps – on your _feet_ , Fenwick. Meet me back here and be ready to fly. Fourth and fifth years, fifty press-ups, fifty sit-ups and five laps, and then report to Alice," Longbottom said, and there was a low chorus of moaning and sighing. Remus glanced sideways and saw Peter's ears were laid lat against the side of his head. Sirius had shucked his robes off and laid them on the wet grass, his nose wrinkled in disgust. James was already doing press-ups, his black eyebrows knitted together, his glasses speckled with water.

Remus flopped down next to Sirius, letting the rain fall on his face. He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue out, half-hopeful, but the only thing that landed on it was Sirius' pinching fingertips. That, of course, demanded that Remus roll over and rub a clump of muddy grass into Sirius' face, which in turn required Sirius attack him with elbows and knees until Alice blew a whistle at them and gave them ten more press-ups each for being childish.

Temporarily vanquished, but with whispered promises of a future engagement, they did their calisthenics in silence. Remus watched Sirius for a while, out of the corner of his eye, and checked the uneasy sensation in his stomach against his internal catalog of symptoms. Eventually he decided it should probably be filed under "Up too early with no breakfast" and not "Probably sickening for something – stop in to Pomfrey." 

"Right, you lot," Alice said, when they had finished, and straggled into rows in front of her, the expression on her round face unusually fierce. Remus wondered if something had – happened. "Pair off, then, and we'll start with some drills." She was silent for a moment, amid the larger rustling, and Remus noticed how her fingers were clenched in her robes. Alice was angry, and that made him nervous; in Gryffindor, Longbottom was in charge of the shouting, Alice was in charge of patting people on the shoulder and producing a hot cup of cocoa from the end of her wand. 

Alice sat on the couch every evening and let the Firsties fall asleep with their heads on her knees or lap or shoulders. Alice could also be counted on to not even look up from her Transfiguration textbook if a slightly (or even a decidedly) older student wormed his or her way under the pile of sleeping children; she would just reach out one hand and rest it carefully on an exposed arm or neck or back, if that were necessary. But right now Alice looked like she wanted to tear them all limb from limb. He felt Peter squirm next to him, and looked over to see James and Sirius were wearing matching alarmed expressions.

"Count off in ones and twos," she said, "ones, step forward," she added, and James and Sirius stepped forward, along with, Remus saw, Lily Evans and Maggie Murphy. Lily's hair was fire-bright against the gloom, and it warmed him. "On your brooms, Fourth Year Ones, and up you go." Sirius and James rose in tandem, feet hanging loose, black hair slicked against their skulls.

"On your brooms, Fourth Year Twos, and up you go," Alice said, and Remus slung a leg over his broom and pushed off, the wind picking up as he rose, though the rain seemed to be weakening. "Fifth Year Ones, on your brooms and away you go, up high, please. Fifth Year Twos, brooms down, spread out and form a circle around me." Remus felt his broom wiggle and buck and clamped his knees together. It was an old broom – one of his father's – and much repaired, but usually well-behaved, if treated with appropriate care.

"High-up Ones, you're Death Eaters; cast as I call it, but pull your blows. Mid-air Ones, you've been injured, and you’ve lost your seat. Mid-Air Twos, you're under attack and your partner is about to fall off his or her broom. Twos on the ground, you're Inferi. When you've caught your partner– or died by Inferi – swap places and go again. GO! STRIATUS!" Alice said, and then the world was a whirl of robes and hurled curses and Sirius hanging casually off of his broom by one leg, firing curses upwards, as if he did this sort of thing every day. Remus ducked his head and jammed his feet in the stirrups and dove for the middle of the fray, ducking multi-colored flashes of light. He caught Sirius easily, and got a brilliant smile in return. He couldn't help but notice Sirius has extremely pink lips. To distract himself he pinched Sirius' nose and called him a show-off.

"Your turn," Sirius said, headbutting him, and Summoning his broom at the same time, and Remus threw him off and flew back to the center, where he flipped himself upside down and experimented with steering his broom with his calves. He had ducked two slashing hexes and had a bruising jinx glance off him when Sirius came up from below, screaming blue murder, and jammed a shoulder in his stomach in the course of carrying him off the field. They rested for a minute, catching their breath, long enough to see Lily dive-bomb three "Inferi" on her way to tucking Camellia Butcher under her arm and rocketing upwards. She blew past James on her way off the field and they laughed at the adoration that was plain on his face.

Dawn had broken, fully and foggily, and he had caught Sirius twice more and was working on a third when Alice called a halt and waved everyone down. They flopped on the grass and watched the Sixth and Seventh years rise in formation and fly drill patterns over and over, red and gold blurs against the heavy grey sky, banking and weaving in time with the movement's of Longbottom's wand. Alice's face had returned to normal, and it was, Remus thought, resting his head on Sirius' s stomach, almost pleasant.

**

The sun had started to burn the fog off by the time Longbottom marched them back up to the Tower, and then down to breakfast, where Remus ate three plates of French Toast without stopping, or bothering to pay too much attention to the way Sirius drank his pumpkin juice. He decided, also, as he piled his plate with a second helping of bacon, that it was just as well James was muted for the week, or else his whoop of glee at Slytherins who were developing purple boils on their faces in patterns that looked like their own handwriting – and that said things like _I like red silk on a woman!_ and _Ask me how good I am with my mouth!_ – would have given the game away far too early. As it was, Sirius' gasp of surprise and laughter swiftly muffled in Peter's shoulder earned them a narrow, searching glance from McGonagall.

The light of that early laughter stayed in Sirius' face for most of the day, only to fade suddenly three-quarters of the way through Herbology. Remus, partnered with a Hufflepuff and occupied with the delicate business of re –potting a fanged geranium, didn't realize anything was amiss until he glanced up to ask Sprout a question and saw Sirius' dark, angry face. He turned to Peter, who had both ears flicked all the way forward, straining to hear, but received a shrug in reply. James rolled his eyes and mimed poking at a flower until it bit. Sirius, for his part, hunched into his robes and snarled at anyone who looked at him too long, and attacked his dinner as if it had cursed him.

**

That evening, after Sirius had unlocked the dormitory door, it was clear that two hours of his own company had done nothing for his temper. Remus decided to let him sulk, and set about putting away the folded laundry the house elves had left on his bed. While arranging his jumpers, he heard Peter open and close his trunk, and James stomping around his bed, but every time he glanced up, Sirius was still a ball of rage reading a Potions book. Remus had just tucked his last sock into place when Peter dropped onto his bed, grinning broadly.

"Moony," he said, "Death Is Not An Option."

Remus groaned, and James looked up, his eyes bright with curiosity. Sirius turned a page of his book as if he hadn't heard, but Remus saw a brief glimmer of silver over the rough edges of the page.

"Go on, then," he said, wondering what horrors Peter would come up with this time. Peter settled himself against the headboard and crossed his pudgy legs at the ankles. James dropped the jumper he was holding and came to sit next to Peter on the other side of the bed.

"In the category of "A Bit of a Snog", Moony: Shandy or Chichester?" Peter asked, and Remus paused, thinking. Both of them were Ravenclaws, pretty in a general sort of way. But Chichester had a truly staggering command of the vagaries of the Hogwarts library. He had heard she was the one Ravenclaw who had never gotten lost in the stacks. 

"Chichester," he said, after a bit, and Peter grunted in agreement.

"Chichester or Creighton?"

"Creighton's spoken for, has to be Chichester again," Remus said, and Peter blinked in surprise. 

"Macmillan, as of yesterday, almost tripped over them in the Curses section," Remus said, and Peter nodded. James tugged on Peter's trousers and mouthed something Remus couldn't see.

"Chichester or Jones, James asks," Peter said, and Remus had to think again. Jones was a Hufflepuff, and pleasantly plump, but he had tutored her once, in Herbology, and discovered something about her just smelled _wrong_.

"Chichester, Jones smells funny," he said, and Peter arched an eyebrow. "Like – a funeral parlour."

"Lily or Maggie?" Sirius growled, and the room grew very quiet. Remus suppressed a sigh. So it was going to be _that_ kind of night, was it?

"Why, Miss Murphy, of course," he said, flashing James a smile. James got up, walked around the bed, and had raised his hand to slap Sirius across the back of his head when his Sirius reached up and pinned his wrist between two bony fingers. James went still, and there was a long pause, until Sirius released him. James turned around and sat down next to Peter, rubbing his wrist with one hand.

"Brambles or Jones?" Peter said, with a low cough, and Remus decided Sirius could keep sulking, if he liked it that much. 

"Brambles," Remus said, and Peter made a noise of agreement. They had gotten through most of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff above 5th year when the door to the bathroom banged open and Sirius emerged, furious and . . . naked. Naked and _female_ , Remus thought, before locking his eyes on a point just over one pale shoulder.

"Bloody hell!" Peter squeaked, and closed his eyes. James jumped up automatically, and then seemed to decide the floor was just _fascinating_. 

"Look at me," Sirius said, a whip-crack of command in his voice that Remus had never heard before. He wondered, absently, if James knew that trick, too, and he looked. It was, he realized with a jolt of surprise, the first time he had seen Sirius without any clothes on since they had all returned from Term Break. In addition to being female, he also had several new scars and bruises – some of which could be chalked up to Broom Drill, but not all of them. He thought back to Sirius' wild eyes and tangled hair, the first night back, and clenched the fist Sirius couldn't see.

"Er?" Peter said, as Sirius stalked towards them, hands on hips, hair wild around his head.

"Well?" Sirius said, and James shrugged, lifting his hands in a gesture of bafflement.

"Am I hideous?" Sirius said, and they all frowned. _Hideous?_ Remus thought, completely confused.

"Am I ugly?" Sirius said, the whip-crack back, and Peter shook his head. Sirius swung his gaze across their faces, a calculating expression in his eyes.

"You're not objective," he said, after a minute, and crossed to the door. James jumped up again, but Sirius had the door open and was bellowing for Shacklebolt and Jordan before James could stop him. Shacklebolt arrived first, alarm and confusion mixed on his face, followed by Jordan, who took one look at Sirius and shrieked.

"Black, are they --?" Shacklebolt began, looking around the room; Remus clenched the other fist, and James' face darkened.

"No," Sirius snapped. "Am I hideous, Shacklebolt?"

"Are you – what?" Jordan asked, eyes fixed on the floor.

"AM I UGLY?" Sirius roared, and Remus noted that he couldn't decide if he wanted to give Sirius a hug or punch him in the face for being a vain bastard. Or maybe find an extra dressing gown for him before the entire Tower was called up to evaluate his attractiveness and gawk at his bruises. Remus had the sudden urge to catch Sirius and hold him, shelter him from himself, until this awful madness passed. But he squelched it quickly. 

"No," Shacklebolt said, still looking confused. "Skinny, maybe –"

"Nice tits, though," Jordan added, glancing up briefly. Kingsley was opening his mouth to say something else when Remus heard scuffling and muttering in the corridor, and Evans poked her head in the room.

"I heard shouting, is – Oh!" she said, and Sirius fixed her with his most ferocious glare.

"Well, Evans, what do you think? Am I worth bothering with?" he snapped, as she came the rest of the way into the room. Remus cut his eyes towards James, who was as red as her hair, and then back to the scene in front of them. Evans' eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head to one side.

"Frances Auldwylde is a right wee bint," she said, after a minute, straightening up, "and you know it, Black. But I'll grant you do look a bit rough."

"Rough?" Sirius said, in an entirely different tone, and Remus was grateful when Shacklebolt and Jordan took that as a cue to flee the room.

"Aye, rough, " Evans said. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it in the direction of his bed, and his dressing gown floated over to hang next to her.

"Come through, then," she said, settling it over his shoulders, "and Maggie and I will sort you out. I'll return him in an hour, gentlemen," she added, glancing at Remus, who nodded, and then they were gone.


	6. A Time for Reconaissance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 7: Puddle-jumping
> 
> WARNINGS: Sirius snogs all of the Maurauders but James Potter. In the name of research!

"Bloody hell," Peter said, as the door clicked shut. Remus flopped down on his bed and wondered how much stress, exactly, it took to bring on a heart attack. He settled his hand over the ridges of his tail, closed his eyes and tried to think soothing thoughts. He felt another hand settle nearby and opened his eyes to see James peering down at him, his black hair even wilder than normal, his eyes dark with worry. He reached out with his other hand, flipped the cuffs of Remus' robes back, and traced circled around his wrists.

"I know," Remus said, "Didn't notice until now," and saw James nod in agreement.

"What d'ye reckon they're doing to him?" Peter asked, from the other side of the bed, one ear flicked towards the door. 

"Dunno, mate – girl things, I suppose," Remus muttered, not entirely sure himself what that might entail. His own mother, as far as he had ever seen, had never used anything but a hairbrush and a bit of lipstick for special occasions. Aunt Fiona had numerous mysterious pots of colored paints and vile smelling lotions – he had seen them, crowded at the bathroom sink – but he hadn't the foggiest idea what she actually did with them. He hoped Sirius was not going to come back smelling like Aunt Fiona.

"Hmmm," Peter said, and there was a long silence. Remus thought again about Sirius' bruises, livid purple and mottled yellow and green against the soft whiteness of his skin, and the angry red scrapes on his wrists. And he was very pale, and very thin. _Like he'd been chained in a dungeon_ , Remus thought, and immediately shook it away. There had to be some logical explanation for it; he had been examined by Pomfrey, anyway, so – 

"I hear the Chamber of Secrets is under the Lake and it's guarded by Mer people," Peter said, kicking his legs against the side of the bed.

"Pull the other one, Pettigrew, it's got bells on," Remus said, and James punched him in the shoulder, though without any real force. He turned his head to look at James, who was rubbing his own wrists and frowning. He was wearing an expression that usually presaged Snape getting punched in the face.

"Macmillan thought it was a good possibility," Peter continued, undaunted. "Said he'd read something about it, somewhere. Has to be down deep, doesn't it, to keep the monster in –"

James left off rubbing his wrists and turned to squint at Peter, his head cocked to one side. He put one hand over his mouth and pretended to strain for air, and Peter's face fell.

"Hadn't worked that bit out yet," he muttered. Remus rolled over, pulled his knees up, and tried to think about how to breathe underwater. After a minute James slapped the bed with his hand and Remus turned his head to see him apparently trying to a dig a hole in the mattress.

"A tunnel?" Peter said, and James nodded, grinning broadly. "Dig under the Slytherins, you mean," he added, and made a humming noise. "We'd have to start outside, I think –" he said, and Remus laughed at the expression on James' face. They were deep in plans for their tunnel – James and Peter had even started a gesture-heavy row about tunnel supports – when the door popped open again and Sirius walked in, dressing gown tied at his waist, trailing Lily and Maggie behind him. Remus didn't think he looked all that different then he had when he left, although there was a noticeable lack of hysterical rage. 

"Chamber of Secrets _again?_ " Maggie said, and Lily rolled her eyes. "Doesn't exist, you numpties. You'd think one lost Gryffindor eye would be enough to put you all off of it," she added, and Remus tried not to wince. "Anyway, here's Black for you, we've tidied him as best we can, and stuffed him full of chocolate as well. He'll be out snogging the lads and breaking hearts directly," she added, and Sirius flushed bright pink. 

"Will _not_ ," he muttered, and Lily patted him on the shoulder, smiling faintly.

"'course you won't, love," Maggie said, "you're a proper Pureblooded lady, you are," and Remus had to admire her courage in the face of Sirius' glare. He felt the bed shift and wondered if James had fallen over under the weight of his suppressed laughter.

" _Maggie_ ," Lily said, with a fierce look of her own, and Maggie rolled her eyes. "We'll just be going," she continued, "'night, you lot." She gave Remus a look that suggested there were things to discuss at another time, and he nodded, and tilted his head towards James, and she shook her head briefly.

"Evans," Sirius said, turning to look at her. "Thanks. And you too, Murphy."

"Any time, love," Maggie said, and Lily reached out and patted his shoulder again.

"Snogging the lads, aye?" Peter said, when the door had closed behind them, and snorted with laughter. 

"Shut it, Pettigrew," Sirius snarled, moving towards them, and Remus wriggled over so he could sit down on the end of the bed.

"Feeling better, then?" Remus asked, propping himself up on his elbow for a better look. Up close, he could see that someone had smoothed the edges of Sirius' bitten nails, and that his hair seemed slightly longer and more evenly cut, though he still smelled like himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt the wolf lie down, satisfied.

"Yes," Sirius said, and folded his hands neatly in his lap. "What's this about the Chamber of Secrets, then?" he asked.

"Macmillan thinks it's under the Lake, guarded by Mer people," Remus said, "read it in a book, apparently. We can't swim for it, but we might be able to dig --" 

"You could, you know," Peter said. "It's only kissing, after all, and who really takes _that_ seriously – ow, Potter, you bloody wanker –" 

Remus sat up quickly in order to avoid death by James Potter, and retired with Sirius to his bed when the scuffle threatened to become a full-on wrestling match. Peter finally won with a quick wrench of James' arm followed by an aggressive course of sitting on him, though Remus could see the victory was spoiled by James' inability to cry uncle. 

"I mean, don't you want to know what it's like?" Peter asked, shifting slightly to let James up.

"What what's like?" Sirius said, warily, and Peter rolled his eyes.

"Snogging, for a girl, you great pillock – just think, you'd come out the other end knowing exactly what they like. And you could tell all of us, as well," he added, with a triumphant smile. At that, James' expression changed slightly, and Remus felt a tendril of alarm uncurling in his stomach.

"But, Peter," Sirius began, "I'd have to actually _snog blokes_ , and I mean – it's still me in here –"

"Mm-hm, well, but you're a fit bird out here, and really, how awful can it be? I had to _burp slugs_ in the name of research, I'll have you remember –" Peter said, and James wrinkled his nose. Remus sighed; Peter had complained for weeks afterwards but it had been a magnificent prank, in the end. He had especially enjoyed watching Rabbie Lestrange sneezing snails. Their tiny shells had made a most satisfying clatter on his desk, and the explosion when one had plopped into a full cauldron of Babbling Beverage had been spectacular.

"Ugh, James, whatever possessed you to snog _Bertha Jorkins_?" Sirius said, and James shrugged and mouthed something that might have been "research", but Remus wasn't sure. Sirius scrubbed at his face with his hands and sighed, and muttered something Remus didn't quite catch.

"Anyone gives you trouble or knocks you back, we'll – we'll punch him in the face," Peter said, a smile starting at the edge of his mouth, and James nodded enthusiastically.

"But – _blokes_ – " Sirius said, though he sounded more resigned than outraged.

"You can practice on us first," Peter said, and James' eyes briefly went wide as dinner plates. "Get used to the idea, n'that. I'll go first, since it was my idea," he added, and patted his knee. "Come on then, petal."

"Petal?" Remus repeated, and Sirius flinched, but stood up anyway, his face settling into determined lines. He moved to stand near Peter, but it wasn't until James made a shoo-ing motion with his hands that he sat down on Peter's knee. Peter dropped an arm on his lap and he shot to his feet, eyes wide. Remus noted, absently, that he had somehow developed a stomachache. He dropped a hand on to his tail automatically, and felt a little better. He also noticed James was starting to look a little anxious as well, which also helped.

"Jumpy," Peter said, mildly, and Sirius glared at him. "Look, you arse, I'm not going to do anything, you know, funny. But if I don't hold on you might fall off. Now sit down and quit fucking about," he added, and Sirius sat down and allowed Peter to put an arm around his waist.

"Peter," Sirius said, his voice quite calm, "how did you learn about – all of this?"

"Coronation Street," Peter said, equally unruffled, "Mum watches it, on the telly. I've explained about it before. Now put your arms around my neck – not in a headlock, you berk, gently, like – and hold still," he added, and Remus watched, hypnotized, as Peter bent his head, ears flicked forward, and proceeded to snog Sirius quite thoroughly. James, for his part, fell off the bed with a muffled thump. Remus half-wondered if he'd fainted, and if he had, how they would explain it to Pomfrey.

"Mm," Peter said, when he finally came up for air, his ears rotating slowly. Remus supposed that meant he was happy. Sirius, on the other hand, was red as a tomato, and breathing hard. James had, by this time, picked himself up off the floor and had moved to sit next to Peter. Remus noticed he was clutching the bedclothes for dear life and had to suppress a hysterical giggle.

"Try breathing through your nose, next time," Peter said, and Sirius nodded. "Right, off you go, over to James," he continued, and transferred Sirius to James' lap in one fluid movement. James put a hand up to steady him automatically, and for a moment Remus thought Sirius was going to bolt again. James patted his back gently and pushed his hair back with his other hand, and Remus saw Sirius relax. There was another long pause; James mouthed something that made Sirius laugh, and then he settled his arms around James' neck and bent his head. That time it was much shorter; James pulled almost as soon as their lips touched, and gave Sirius an apologetic look.

"'S alright, mate, I can't either," Sirius said, wiping at his mouth. "Like kissing Regulus." James made a terrible face at that comment, and then they both started laughing weakly. Remus hoped they were not going to have hysterics, because he did not want to have to explain _that_ to Pomfrey, either. After a minute James pushed Sirius off his lap and Remus realized it was his turn.

"Ready, Moony?" Sirius said, and Remus nodded, though he really wasn't ready at all. He had kissed a few girls before – mostly quick, stolen kisses, behind cow sheds, over hay bales or in coat cupboards after ceilidhs, at home, or in obscure sections of the Hogwarts Library. He had only ever snogged two girls, both of them older island girls who he suspected felt sorry for him, the poor sick boy, stuck inside with him mum on fine summer days. They had come to collect some preserves or drop off some vegetables – some small domestic errand – and dragged him into the pantry while his mother was fussing in the kitchen or the root cellar and stuck their tongues in his mouth. His mother invariably noticed his breathlessness and surprised expression, assumed he was ill, and parked him in a rocking chair for the rest of the day with only a ship model for company, no matter how much he protested.

But this – _girl_ – he had to say it – walking towards him with a weary, anxious expression on her face, was actually Sirius, his mate. Who knew he was a werewolf, and didn't care. Who looked like he hadn't a decent meal in weeks and was covered in bruises and scratches that he hadn't given himself by accident, which probably were sore, and for which Remus had, in the privacy of his mind, sworn he would avenge – somehow. At least he would prevent there being any more. 

When James had his voice back they would discuss it and they would sort it out. James would punch someone in the face, or Remus would find some defensive spells, or both. But right now he had to kiss Sirius, while James and Peter watched, and Remus was fairly certain his stomach was going to come out of his nose –

"Moony?" Sirius said, touching his shoulder. "Alright?" he was very close now; the dressing gown gaped open a little when he leaned forward, and Remus could see the empty space between his – breasts. Noting that at least his freckles were in the same place, Remus looked up and summoned a smile, and scooted back on the bed before opening his arms, internally reminding himself to breathe.

Sirius sat down carefully, tucking the dressing gown underneath him neatly and wriggling slightly until he was comfortable, and Remus reminded himself again about breathing. He also noticed, with dawning horror, that certain body parts in the area of his lap had declared some interest in the proceedings, and sent quelling thoughts down to them. He also shot a glare at Peter, who was _smirking_. 

"Bony," Sirius said, wrinkling his nose, which broke the tension; Remus snickered in spite of himself, and snorted an apology into Sirius' shoulder. He felt Sirius twist to face him, and arrange his arms, and he looked up –

_\--lips-- warm, a little dry; tongue – definitely wet, heavy, gliding over his teeth and palate; mouth – full of strange teeth, someone sucking on his tongue – fingers, also, curling in his hair, holding him still. A spreading warmth, and goosebumps—_

At that he pulled away, knowing what was coming next, and managed to inhale. Sirius made a startled noise and Remus gave him what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze while simultaneously hoping he had not noticed what had been about to happen. _He is a fit bird_ , Remus thought, wondering if that would be enough of an excuse if he needed one. He tilted his head back and saw Sirius was giving him a searching look, and chewing on of his (perfect) pink lips.

"Good," he said, feeling a little faint, and was rewarded with a pleased grin from Sirius before he stood up and shook out the dressing gown. Remus had to close his eyes against the urge to grab Sirius and haul him back down on the bed and snog him some more. _Peter, you are going to die_ , he thought. _Painfully. Painfully **and** burping slugs. _

"Well?" Peter said, "what've you learned, then?"

"Er," Sirius said, and crossed his arms in front of him. "Other people's teeth taste funny? The holding on thing, that was good. And you're a bit quick with the tongue, Pettigrew. Feel a bit funny – here –" he gestured at his stomach "—and –" he paused again, and blushed. "Er. You know. Um." He looked down at the floor, and Remus was overwhelmed with relief. It had happened to both of them, or maybe all of them, it was just – hormones. It didn't have to mean anything.

"Well, Remus and I know we aren't crap kissers, at least," Peter said, sounding pleased with himself. Remus glanced at James, who shrugged. "Right," Peter continued. "Tomorrow, Sirius, your assignment is to take a Ravenclaw out puddle-jumping –"

"Puddle-jumping?" Sirius and Remus said, in unison, and Remus thought he saw James' mouth moving as well.

"Yes, Sirius, puddle-jumping – you know, suggest a walk by the lake, get a bit splashy and fall on him, make him practice his drying charms on your wet blouse, I'm sure you can work it out from there. And see what else they know about the Chamber of Secrets."

"How --?" Sirius said, as they all stared at Peter.

"Best way to master a drying charm ever invented – Dad told me, at the start of Term," Peter said, with a half-shrug. "And York likes to walk by the Lake."


	7. Opening Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 8 and 9  
> Song: I Like The Rain Best When It Stops, by Joe Purdy; photograph of a boy in an orange sweatshirt and a black dog.
> 
> WARNINGS: Regulus being unpleasant, irritable children, somebody gets slimed, Pureblooded nastiness.
> 
> Other notes: A ghillie is a caddy/minder. It's Gaelic for "serving boy," more or less.

It was not to be borne.

First something with whiskers and quite sharp claws had had the temerity to walk up his leg and stick it's wet nose in his ear and _snuffled_. Then something else had been noisily ill somewhere to the left of his bed. This had roused the entire dorm into a fit of muttered imprecations and half-awake, badly-aimed spells before someone – presumably whoever owned the thing – had Scourgified the mess and taken the dyspeptic creature off to be tended or fussed over or whatever one did with sick pets. But the room still smelled faintly of sick, a strong note in the usual bouquet of dirty socks, sweaty Quidditch uniforms and ill-advised (but _very_ expensive) hair pomade.

But the final indignity, the one that propelled Regulus out of his clean, soft bed on a bloody Saturday morning, was the un-Silencio'd creak of bed-springs interspersed with faint moaning and slightly damp squelching noises. He dressed quickly, yanking the orange sweatshirt and blue denims from their hiding place, wincing at their coarseness and the fact that the orange clashed dreadfully with his hair. But it was the best he had been able to find in a whirlwind trip to the Lost and Found when Severus and Rabbie had been distracted by hexing Potter and Lupin into a wall. He dropped a spare set of hunting robes over his head, and bolted from the room without making his bed. 

The Common Room was nearly empty; there were a few students studying in pools of wand-light, and more lounging on the couches, though closer inspection revealed them to be 7th years that had doubtless staggered home the previous evening in what his mother referred to as "a disgraceful state." He sniffed one of them, vaguely curious as to what sort of disgraceful state they might have been in, and if it would be of any use to him later – his mother differentiated between "Firewhiskey-sozzled" and "Gillyweed –stained," and both had their value, as bargaining chips – and recoiled in disgust after a second helping of slightly-sweet sick stench.

He was almost out the door when someone called his name, barely loud enough to be heard. He turned around slowly, scanning the room, until he found his quarry – a messy tangle of black-clad limbs, dark hair, and unnaturally pale skin, on the other side of a game of gobstones and an opponent covered in stinky slime. He suppressed a sigh, and pressed his lips together in a way that should convey his haste to any decent individual.

"Where are you going, Regulus?" Snape said, and waves his wand to Banish the gobstones slime and reveal Amycus Carrow wearing a murderous expression.

"Out," he said, and turned towards the door.

"Who are you going with?" Snape asked, and scanned the Common Room a second time.

"People," Regulus muttered, not in the mood for the bloody Witch-Finders Inquisition.

"When are you coming back?" Amycus interjected, turning his bulky body around. He really did look quite like his sister – or she looked like him – anyway they were both horribly ugly. His mother said this was because there were mudbloods and half-breeds lurking somewhere in their family Tree. Proper Purebloods were always beautiful. He wondered, sometimes, if now that Sirius had disgraced them that the Black family were on their way to becoming moon-faced and blobby. The idea always made him feel slightly ill and caused him to pass on dessert.

"Later," he snapped, and chose to ignore Snape's pointed sigh that followed him out of the dungeons.

Once outside he was glad he had chosen his hunting robes; it was pouring with rain _again_ , and blowing hard. The Lake was rippling with whitecaps, the boats tied up by the dock at the end of the path from Hagrid's hut were banging into each other and making the most alarming noises. He pulled his hood up and picked up his pace, until he was nose to nose with Hagrid's repulsively common doorknocker. He wrapped his fingers in the edges of his sleeves and scratched the brass lion between the ears with great resentment. There was a long silence, and Regulus had the horrible feeling he might have to throw – rocks – at the window and risk encountering the great oaf in his pyjamas, but then the door creaked open. 

"Mister Black," Hagrid said, opening the door fully, and Regulus automatically tilted his head and scooted back a few steps. Hagrid always made him feel impossibly tiny, like he was five, visiting Grandpapa Arcturus while he was at the Highland estate, and stuck pretending to play golf with Sirius and the ghillie while the men drank themselves cross-eyed and blew quail out of the sky with occasional bursts of red light.

"Hagrid," he said, and let a gust of wind blow a sheet of rain against his shoulders. Blacks did not cower before the Ministry, much less the weather. 

"Ye may as well come in, there's a pot o' tea on the stove and scones jist out o' the oven," Hagrid said, and stepped back far enough for him to get inside the cabin. Regulus stopped in front of one oversized chair and squinted at the hearth where – yes – Elsie the Newfoundland was in repose, three or four fat black puppies lolling between her massive legs. She raised her head slightly and gazed at him, and he could have sworn she arched a doggy eyebrow. 

"Cup o' tea?" Hagrid said, and Regulus blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say, either to Hagrid or to Elsie. Finally, manners won, and he accepted the tea, climbing into one of the cabin's massive chairs to drink it. He also made a – he thought – valiant attempt at one of the scones. After a minute he sat back in the chair and sipped his tea in silence, comforted by the warmth of the cabin and the steady beat of the rain on the roof.

"Wasn't expecting ye this morning," Hagrid said, "though I reckon it is Argus' day out." They both looked out the window, and Hagrid chuckled. "Not going very far in this, though – reckon he and Ir-" Hagrid paused, and coughed. "--Mrs. Norris are tucked up snug and dry in the castle. Since yer here, though, may as well put ye to work. How long were ye sent down for, then?"

"Just a morning," Regulus said, quietly, and looked at Elsie again, who gave him a broad doggie smile.

"What is it ye done?" Hagrid asked, and Regulus gave him a steely look. But Hagrid did not look away, or apologize for his impertinence. He just shrugged and launched into instructions on the proper way of clipping a puppy's toenails without magic, handed Regulus a massive pair of clippers and stepped out into the rain carrying his ridiculous parasol, muttering something about _time to clear out the wood shed_ , which made no sense to Regulus at all. He shucked his hunting robes off and settled down by the fire, and dragged the first puppy into his lap.

**

"Ye've never had detention in yer life, much less today – unlike yer brother, who will be scrubbing Argus' floors until he qualifies or dies," Hagrid said to the inside of the woodshed, as he moved the scattered cords of firewood into a neat stack against the back wall. He rolled the whetstone out and pulled the axe off it's hook, and spent a few minutes bringing a fine sharp edge to the blade before putting it back.

"There," he said, wiping his hands on his coat, and stepped back out into the deluge, parasol held high. He made a brief detour by the planting shed to organize the seed packets, first by planting season and then alphabetically. He did the vegetables first, as they were in a terrible state, and then the flowers. He found a few suspicious seed pods amid the latter, and fished them out, carefully, and dropped them into his handkerchief. He'd send them to Sprout, later, with a note about it being time to open the perennial beds for the season. He considered a note for Flitwick, as well, but decided the man probably was well aware – he spent more time in the Castle than any of them.

"But if it will settle ye to spend a minute with Elsie and the pups, ye may as well clip their claws for me," he said, bending to give the rakes and hoes a quick going over – just enough to remove the worst of the rust. By the time he had finished, and stepped out of the shed for a quick smoke, the worst of the rain had passed, and the wind had died down. He looked up the hill at the Castle; the chimneys were puffing away, and he could see student-sized black blobs moving over the lawn. Four of the blobs broke off and started down the path; as they got closer he could see there were two dark heads, and two fair, and they were all headed his way, at speed. Time to roust young Black, then, and put a new pot of tea on the boil.

**

"Hagrid!" someone shouted, and Regulus came awake with a start that made the puppy in his arms yelp in surprise. 

"Shh," he said, to the puppy, and rolled to his knees.

"Hagrid, have you got any gillyweed?" said a different voice – one he knew. He felt a surge of irritation that Sirius had managed to ruin his morning, coming down here where he wasn't needed looking for plants he wasn't supposed to be using. Though Regulus did wonder what he and his degenerate friends wanted with gillyweed. He filed that nugget away under "Things to threaten to tell Mum". 

"'Course I haven't," Hagrid rumbled, but his voice sounded over-cheerful to Regulus. He glanced around the room quickly, wondering where it was hidden, and why it was here, and not with Slughorn. Well, perhaps Sluggy thought it too common for his own stores.

"Coming in for a cuppa, then?" he asked, and Regulus stifled a groan. He looked around the room, searching for a bolt-hole; there was a chorus of agreement and the massive door swung open with a bang just as Regulus managed to wedge himself (and the squirming puppy) into the wardrobe. He sat through several minutes of fussy tea-pouring, awkward scone eating and a discussion of Lupin's tail and Pettigrew's ears that he really could have done without hearing. Then Hagrid made an excessive amount of noise rummaging around for the sugar, even for him, before they all slammed out of the cabin, shouting about boats. 

He waited a moment before pushing the wardrobe door open and climbing out. The puppy he deposited with Elsie, who licked his hand with her foul tongue, reminding him of the questing nose from earlier in the day. No wonder his mother wouldn't have any animals in the house; they were always licking and burping and being ill everywhere.

He grabbed his hunting robes (surely his brother would have recognized them?) pushed the cabin door open slowly and, not seeing Hagrid, headed towards the Lake at a run. He arrived in time to see his brother climbing into a rowboat with his horrible friends wearing nothing but – Regulus gasped in horror – an obscenely brief and tight bathing costume. He had seen similar things on girls at the Wizarding resort on St. Croix over the summer, but they had been nothing but mudblood and half-breed trollops trying to trap a rich husband. Pettigrew was giving Sirius a look that Regulus objected to quite strenuously, but it was Lupin, and the hand he extended to rest on Sirius' waist as he climbed in to steady him against the rocking of the boat, that distressed him the most. 

He watched, fuming, as they pushed off the bank, and rowed their way out to the middle. Sirius went in first, flipping himself easily off the side of the boat, followed by Potter, who dove in and almost capsized the boat. After a while he realized they must have found the gillyweed, and, since he didn't fancy sitting for an hour in the wet when the party-Floo would bring the news soon enough, gave up and stalked back to the dungeons.


	8. Hufflepuffs Mate For Life!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 10: Spring Cleaning
> 
> WARNINGS: Graphic discussion of burping slugs. And, uh, there's some Filch/Castle in the first section.

Autumn brought the children, old and new, steeped in London filth and train grime, losing pets in his dungeons, tracking mud sifted with leaf litter all over his pristine floors, clogging toilets and ruining mattresses with their homesickness. Winter brought slush and ice-rime, cracking stones and red, split fingers. The children sneezed and coughed and fell in mud puddles like half-wild dogs, and found new ways to singe his ceilings with their cabin-fever. He used a good deal of wax, in the winter, trying to sooth Her hurts. 

Spring brought whipping wind and driving rain, that yanked shutters off at the roots and sent them flying over the Lake, and reaped a bitter harvest of shingles and loose stones. Spring brought him idiots who fucked whatever wasn't nailed down where-ever they liked, usually in placed they weren't supposed to be, leaving behind snail-trails on desks, splotchy blobby bursts of slime against walls and burst pillows and torn blankets in the dormitories. Tables levitated, chairs exploded and cauldrons melted, in the wake of their frantic rutting. Spring days passed in a blur of urgent requests for a mop here and a sponge there, and a hammer and nails on the 4th floor sharpish, if you will. He patted Her walls and spoke meaningfully of shackles and dungeons and _things I would do if only I could_ , not sure if she heard or understood. She had magic in her ancient bones, after all, and he had none. 

Sometimes, however, he thought She heard him, and understood, and opened Herself to him, his mop, his bucket and his chamois cloth. Walls melted into corridors, staircases swung, unbidden, and launched him into territory he knew was unexplored because it was _dusty_. Recently these gifts of Hers had come more often; he told Mrs. Norris he reckoned She had grown accustomed to them, perhaps even fond of them, in Her own way. Mrs. Norris rumbled in his ear and asked to be let down to chase the crawly things that She disliked.

He had always had the sense of Her nearby, listening and watching, though sometimes more so than others. When She was quite close, he felt Her eyes between his shoulder blades, and it made him itch, and Mrs. Norris grew restive. He spoke to Her sometimes, as he mopped his way through Her nooks and crannies, or sponged down Her walls, telling her about the state of Her other corridors, that they were kept tidy and Her stonework was well looked after. Sometimes he thought he head Her laughing, and that was usually when he gathered Mrs. Norris up and went somewhere his shoulders itched less and Mrs. Norris reported the hunting was much better.

He liked to begin his deep cleaning in the Spring as well – turning out rarely-used rooms, polishing the suits of armor until they complained or clattered away, scattering caustic solutions on the stone floors while the children were outside enjoying the fresh air that made them so randy. He normally started in Ravenclaw and worked his way down to Slytherin, if he wasn't interrupted, and on the day the Squid flipped two foolish Gryffindors out of the Lake, he had finished the last dungeon and was enjoying Her reward – an entirely new corridor, with two diverging branches, and at least one new room – when Fawkes appeared, clutching a bit of parchment in his talons. He patted Her softly on one wall and promised he would be back soon, with the good soap, just as soon as he got the shutters back on Ravenclaw Tower.

He followed Fawkes out of the dungeons at a quick trot, and didn't notice when the wall did not reseal itself behind him.

**

"Well, it isn't guarded by Mer people, we know that much," Sirius said, later, after the Squid had deposited them on the banks with some force, and Remus would have sworn, a certain amount of cephalapodian disgust. Another tentacle had pushed the rowboat ashore, Peter screaming blue murder in his ear. McGonagall and Pomfrey had met them half-way to the castle with warm blankets and a lecture apiece; Pomfrey had insisted they were all going to catch their deaths of cold, or maybe give every one in the Castle a bad chest, and McGonagall had taken ten points from Gryffindor for being indecently attired and mis-use of school property, but Sirius' and James' pitiful shivering had staved off detentions. Several warming and drying charms later, they had been allowed to return to the Tower to, as McGongall put it, "Contemplate the foolishness of their choices."

"Because it isn't _there_ ," Peter said, and dropped his head against Remus' headboard with a loud thunk.

At the other end of the bed, James made a determined face at his cup of cocoa and mouthed something that might have been "Bloody squid."

"Have to dig for it, I reckon," Peter said, his eyebrows knit in concentration. "Go for the Hufflepuffs next, Sirius, they know all about tunnels," he added. 

"Fuck off, Pettigrew," Sirius said, curling up into a ball in the middle of Remus' bed, his feet wrapped in the edges of his nightshirt, a blanket draped over him from shoulders to knees. "Boot damn near chewed my face off, and after Corner I'll never be able to eat lemon custard again. And Clearwater wanted to bloody hold my hand on the way to the Great Hall. And he's --" here Sirius paused and wrinkled his nose " – _clammy_. Besides which, you know what they say – Hufflepuffs mate for life. I'll never bloody get away with just a quick snog."

"Slugs are squishy, Sirius. Squishy and slimey with little nobbles on their heads that tickle the back of your throat on the way up –" Peter began, but James shoved him to the floor before he could go any further. He bounced up and lunged at James, pushing him off the bed, and there was a flurry of knees and elbows before James landed a match-ending elbow to the stomach and they flopped on the floor, flushed and sweating. After a minute James rolled over and tickled Peter's stomach, making him squeak with laughter.

"No Hufflepuffs," Sirius murmured, sounding satisfied, and wriggled up the bed to lie next to Remus' knees, his eyes half-closed. "Want my cock back, Moony," he added, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Tired of this. Don't like tits. Going to kill Regulus."

"Regulus?" Remus said, surprised. There had been a certain amount of discussion on the subject of _Who did this to us?_ , and generally the consensus had favored Snape. Remus had the feeling James was composing something truly fiendish in revenge, and was wondering what part of the Restricted Section he was going to get to explore this time.

"Mm, Regulus," Sirius said, and yawned. "And maybe Rosier. Snape. But Reggie's in it," he added, and coughed gently. "Give them something really nasty. Make all their food taste of brussel sprouts and cabbage for a week, even pudding," he murmured, smiling at the thought. He shifted again, and a hand came out to scrabble in the covers. Remus felt a gentle tension in his lower back and realized Sirius had taken hold of his tail and was petting it.

"Soft," Sirius said, and Remus made a noise of agreement, trying to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. "Like your tail, Moony," Sirius added, and fell asleep.

**

An hour later, Remus gently disengaged his tail and tugged his school robes on, and set off for the Library, in search of Lily Evans. He began his search in the Potions section, which he moved through quickly, aware of Snape's black eyes following him he peered over the top of carrels and checked all of the stacks. After a moment's thought he moved on to the History of Magic section; she was the only one who could ever stay awake for Binns, grimly determined to learn all about goblins. But she wasn't there, either, and he was on his way to the Herbology stacks when he caught a flash of black out of the corner of his eye. He stopped to pretend to read a book about King Elfwine (he still tended to think of him as wearing a tutu) and waited, but no-one passed by him, and there were no tell-tale footsteps. He smiled to himself and doubled back to Potions via Ancient Runes, and was unsurprised when there was a distinct lack of Snape. He caught another flash of black and set off again, varying his pace and zigzagging through the stacks at random, picking up a volume here and there, and letting them float behind him when they became too heavy to carry. 

He even forgot about Lily, for a while, until he suddenly found her, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the Household Charms section. He came to a sudden stop, and the books trailing him bumped against the back of his head.

"Remus," she said, smiling, and he blinked at her. "Severus?" she added, and Remus had to fight hard to suppress his smile when Severus was forced to emerge from the shadows, two spots of color bright in his face.

"Evans," Snape said, and inclined his head. "I'm looking for a book of ironing charms," he added, and Lily arched one red eyebrow at him. Remus had to admire his flinty glare; it gave Sirius a run for his money, in terms of quelling power.

"Down one row and to the right," Lily said, the edges of her mouth curving slightly, and Snape stalked off, lips pressed tightly together.

"Virtuous Wife," she said, turning to Remus, "with some minor variations." She patted the floor next to her, and Remus lowered the books and sat down.


	9. In Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 11 Poem: These, I singing in Spring – Walt Whitman

"I'll move him, will I, Remus?" someone – Peter – said, and Sirius felt the bed dip slightly as someone sat down. He felt fingers on his feet and kicked out automatically, before yanking his foot back. He felt vaguely warm and heavy; the body – he was not sure when he had started thinking of it as "the body" – was sore, and the mattress was soft. Remus' mattress was always softer, somehow, than everyone elses. James thought he had some sort of charm he used, but when they asked he just shook his head.

The fingers came back, on his face this time, cool and rough, and pushed his hair back. He felt warm, mint-scented air on his nose and realized someone was leaning in close – probably Remus. For a moment he thought about opening his eyes and reaching up, grabbing hold of the brown hair that was doubtless hanging nearby – and – _pull him down_ , some part of his brain instructed. _Pull him down and –_ Sirius shook his head, pushing the thought away, and the warm breath disappeared. It's just the body, he reminded himself. The body had liked Remus' arms around his waist, the body had liked his lips even if they were a little chapped, and the body now wanted to Remus to lie down and pull it close and run his cool and rough hands over it, and – 

"Nah, leave him," Remus said, sounding distracted. For one awful moment Sirius thought Remus _knew_ , that the body had given itself away, but then he was poked in the shins by the edge of something that was probably a book, and then Remus started humming to himself, the way he did when he was sorting out his homework assignments.

"What's all this, James would like to know," Peter said, and Sirius felt a different, slightly larger hand settle on his ribs briefly. He waited, and the hand disappeared, apparently satisfied. He had noticed James being oddly touchy since they'd come back – he'd come half awake in the middle of the night one time to find him sitting on the other side of his bed, staring out of the window. And when Sirius had rolled close enough to poke him in the leg, he'd jumped a little and then leaned over and almost squeezed him to death. And then he'd gotten up and gone back to his own bed and, as far as Sirius could tell, gone to sleep. 

"Virtuous Wife," Remus said, and Sirius felt another book being gently shoved against his stomach. "It's what they dosed us with – sort of. Lily said Sluggy's gone though a shedload of fluxweed and rue – yes, James, I spoke to her, no, she didn't say anything about you – anyway she looked it up, it's not exactly illegal, just – well, awkward – "

"I should think so," Peter said, and Sirius wondered what his ears were doing. He had to admit, he was going to miss spending lessons watching Peter's ears swivel. 

"Anyway, she said the ingredients are dead hard to come by –" Remus continued, and a scroll rolled down to rest against Sirius' curled fingers. 

"Bloody show-off, Snape is," Peter muttered, and there was a long pause. "How d'ye mean, sort-of?"

"It's meant to, er, tame the unruly womb, not – give people tails, or funny ears," Remus said, and Peter made a sound that was half-laugh, half-cough. "Anyway, I – had an idea," Remus continued, mischief in his voice, and Sirius opened one eye, recognizing the sound of a prank about to be born.

**

"Oh, Merlin," someone said, and there was a muffled moan.

"Bloody hell, don’t –" someone else said, and she let the watering can drop to the floor with a loud clatter, and began to sing. The honking daffodils swiveled their yellow heads towards her, looking as puzzled as flowers could look; one gave an experimental toot, and she patted its potting soil reassuringly, before picking the watering can up and moving on to the lilacs and pinks. 

Ignoring the whispering and rustling coming from the back, she paused to look out the windows of the Greenhouse. There were several pairs of students walking slowly around the Lake; she noticed three couples included students from her own house, one of which made her eyebrows arch in surprise. She had just made up her mind to grab the weed by the root and go back and roust the young lovers, whoever they were, when the door flew open and a Gryffindor – _Jordan_ , she thought – fell in, breathing hard. 

"Please, Professor, have you seen Frank Longbottom?" he asked, closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but we've looked all over –" he added, and sucked in a ragged breath. _Must've run all the way from the Tower_ , she thought, setting the watering can down moving towards him, wiping her hands.

"What's happened, Jordan? Have you been to Professor McGonagall—" she began and was interrupted by a deep cough.

"I'm here, Jordan, what is it?" Longbottom said, and she very carefully didn't look at him. Jordan was blushing hard enough for both of them.

"Pettigrew went for her, ma'am, " Jordan said, glancing at her. "Er, Black –Lestrange—Snape –Lupin " he added, and Longbottom made an irritated noise.

"Up a tree," Jordan added, and rubbed at his face.

"What, all together?" Sprout cut in, and could have sworn she heard a muffled giggle from the back of the greenhouse.

"Yes – No – um. We were all studying outside, yeah, and then – well, Shacklebolt's sitting on Potter, just now –" he added, shifting from one foot to the other, and Longbottom murmured something mildly rude before moving past her and following Jordan up the hill at a run.

"Up a tree?" Sprout repeated, and shook her head, once again glad that Hufflepuffs mostly let the Slytherins alone. She did not envy Minerva her baby lions _at all_.

**

_Dear Pomona,_

_I have a small problem to which I hope your good offices might remedy; due to an unexpected need for antidotes this term, I am running dangerously low on the following botanicals:_

_Willow (bark)_  
Rue   
Daisies  
Fluxweed  
Gelsemium  
Boneset  
Horse Chestnut  
Mulberries  
Burberry (whole plant)  
Verbena Sinuata  
Bladderwrack 

_I am in anticipation of a vigorous demand from the Hospital Wing in the weeks ahead, so if you could provide replenishments for my stocks by return owl I would most sincerely appreciate it._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Horace Slughorn_

"Snakes at play, I see," Sprout murmured, and slipped the owl a treat. After it flew away, she folded the letter and slid it into her belt, behind her clippers, and picked up a handful of cuttings bags. She was never sure, really, how much of the "vigorous demand" for his potions came from the Hospital, from within his own House, or from persons outside the school. She could count noses at breakfast as well as anyone else, and Poppy sent out reports at the start of every term, as regular as clockwork, with lists of symptoms to look for – Sprout thought by now she might be able to recite the signs of influenza and bronchitis from memory. 

_Professors are the first lines of defense_ , Pomfrey always said, lips pressed in a tight line, pushing at her cap with her fingers. _I do not need to tell you the perils of an epidemic in the Castle_. Worrywort though she was, Sprout liked Poppy well enough, but she didn't much care for the Hospital Wing. It was too quiet, and smelled too clean, and on the occasions when she visited in her capacity as Head of Hufflepuff, she always brought the children something to keep them company – a box of trailing ivy, or a pot of flitterbloom. 

She had cleared a space on her work table and drawn the binding and separating wards for the plant collections when there was a clatter of talons, and a second owl dropped a piece of parchment in her hands.

_P—_

_Found these in the shed while I was tidying the seed packets; thought you might be interested. I've cleared the woodshed as well – if you need lumber for beds, etc., let me know and I'll bring some over._

_R._

Sprout fished another owl treat out of the pocket of her robes and the bird flew off in an explosion of feathers. She looked from the parchment to the seedpods in her hands and made a clucking noise with her tongue. At least the fool man hadn't tried to _plant_ the bloody things – possibly he had learned his lesson after his last ill-advised venture in horticulture. And Poppy would be pleased, even if neither of them really wanted to know where the seeds had actually come from, or what Hagrid had traded for them. She had any number of unusual plants sequestered in a quiet corner of the last greenhouse that were grown from seeds Hagrid had "found" somewhere – like the bottom of a bottle of firewhiskey at the Hog's Head.

"Don't worry, I've a nice warm place for you," she said to the seeds, curling her fingers around them. "I'll plant you myself, I will," she added, as she dropped them into a pocket of her robes for temporary safekeeping.


	10. Unavoidable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The genderswap, ears, tail and mute!James come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 12-13 Frogspawn and Russian Proverb: To live with wolves, you have to howl like a wolf
> 
> WARNINGS: Pureblooded nastiness, some bad language, Ravenclaws on a minor rampage.

"It was unavoidable,sir," Rabbie said, and Severus did not have to open his eyes to see his earnest expression. 

" _Unavoidable?_ " Slughorn said, only half-incredulous. Severus pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and sighed. _Bloody Gryffindors -- bloody Potter_ , he thought, and wished Pomfrey would hurry up and bring some headache draught, or let them go back to the dungeons, where he had his own blend secure at the bottom of his trunk. 

"I was sitting outside minding my own business and the insolent half-breed dropped _frogspawn_ down the back of my robes, sir," Rabbie continued, adding indignation to wounded innocence. 

"And so you decided to respond to Mr. Lupin by treeing him?" Slughorn said, in the tone of someone was trying very hard to be patient. Severus opened one eye and noted his strained, irritated expression.

"It wasn't Lupin with the frogspawn, it was the other one – the fat one – Pettigrew. I had to answer him somehow, sir, so after he ran away, like a coward, I went after him, to thump him properly, and then the whoring blood-traitor tripped me –" Rabbie said, and Severus felt a distant surge of anger at the memory of Sirius Black's smirking face as Rabbie fell. That he had wiped the smirk off only moments later with a swift _Levicorpus_ was only a small consolation. 

"Whoring--?" Slughorn murmured, obviously confused.

"He's been – seen – with Ravenclaws, sir," Severus said, opening the other eye, flexing his fingers slowly. Even upside-down, Black had managed to get at his wand and hit him with something that had felt like the spines of a thousand cacti sinking into his hands.

"I see," Slughorn said, "so after Mr. Black tripped you, you decided to retaliate against Mr. Lupin?"

"No, sir," Rabbie said, "First I took off the hex he cast on Severus and then I hit him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and he fell over, and then Pettigrew tried to hit me with a tripping hex, only he missed, and I about to give him a proper kicking when Lupin hit me in the knee with a bruising hex – look, sir, it's _purple_ –" he said, pulling up his robes to display a skinny leg and kneecap with a small bright spot at the center, like a bulls-eye. "So I stuffed him up the tree to get him out of the way, like, while I settled Pettigrew, and then Black threw a Leg-Locker at me, and I had to stuff him up the tree as well," he added, sounding vaguely pleased with himself. 

There was an ominous creak as Slughorn leaned back in his chair, and Severus rolled one ankle cautiously. Potter had shown up shortly after Black had landed in the tree, his hair sticking out all over his head like an enraged boar, and the hexes had flown thick and fast, on the ground and in the air, before the rest of the Gryffindors had come swarming up and put a stop to everything.

"Is there anything else you'd like to say?" Slughorn asked, and Severus glanced at Rabbie, and they shook their heads.

"Well then – when Madame Pomfrey is finished with you, you'll join me in the Headmaster's office," Slughorn said, and lumbered to his feet.

**

"Fifty points and two weeks of detention with Filch each," Peter said, around a piece of bacon, and Remus threw a crumpet at him, which prompted Sirius to elbow Remus in the ribs. McGonagall was giving them a very flinty look indeed, from the Head Table. She had not been terribly happy with them the night before, and in fact had given them quite a lecture about not taunting their fellow students when they should be fostering an atmosphere of fraternal understanding. 

"Fifty points, two weeks of detention and a head full of pine tar," Remus snapped, eyes narrowing, and Sirius heard the distant thump of a concealed tail on a wooden bench. They had spent the bulk of their Sunday evening applying Goo-Be-Gone to their heads and washing it out again, until Sirius was sure he was going to be stuck with permanently pruney fingers. 

" _I_ didn't put you in a tree," Peter whined, his ears laying flat against his head, and James reached out and laid one hand on Remus' wrist, probably to prevent further violence. Their fellow Gryffindors were also decidedly sore at them, though Jordan had admitted he could completely understand the impulse to drop frogspawn down Lestrange's robes.

"Fuck off, Potter," Remus growled, and pushed himself up, tugging his school bag on to his shoulder. "See you in Defense, then," he said, and stalked off.

"Sulky bastard," Peter said, and James punched him in the shoulder. "Well, he is," Peter muttered, and ate another piece of bacon. "Grumpy, sulky, mopey, old man, who wouldn't know fun if it leaped up and bit him on the arse –"

"Shut it, Pettigrew," Sirius snapped, and stood up himself, porridge unfinished. He and James exchanged a look; James nodded, and waved a hand. Usually Remus was in charge of dealing with what James referred to as "emotional, you know, things" but when Remus himself was distressed, Sirius stepped in. James had tried, once, and had gotten nothing but a black eye for his trouble, and Peter was generally useless at comforting people.

"Going to go and pet his tail until he comes around, are you?" Peter said, and Sirius felt his spine freeze, but only for a moment, before the more familiar rush of anger surged forward. He could feel an undercurrent of something else, as well – surprise, maybe, or perhaps a tinge of protectiveness. Remus was a friend, a Marauder – Remus didn't hesitate to brave Sirius' own black sulks or blue funks – he came bearing chocolate or treacle tart and wouldn't leave until Sirius allowed that maybe it wasn't all better but it might eventually be okay. Sirius had to admit he was a bit fussy about some things – biscuit crumbs in his bed, for example – but he liked a good explosion as much as the next lad. And, alright, maybe he had been feeling bizarrely like giving Remus a hug, or petting his tail, or offering to sit on his lap, but that was _not the point_. 

"Look, you little shit –" he began, leaning forward and saw James drop his head into the palm of his hand out of the corner of his eye, "—I was in that bloody tree as well, and –"

"FUCK OFF, YOU CONCEITED WEE IDIOT!" someone shouted, from the direction of Ravenclaw, and Sirius jerked upright in surprise. Ravenclaws hardly ever shouted, much less swore. 

"I'M AN IDIOT?" someone else shouted, and there was a brief scuffle at the Ravenclaw table in the 4th year section, and Sirius watched Gabriel Corner bounce upwards, until he was nose to angry nose with Nigel Clearwater. 

"YES," Clearwater bellowed, and several muffins rose in a small arrow formation and aimed themselves at Corner. "AND YOU WRITE CRAP ESSAYS, AS WELL," he added, and one of the muffins detached itself from the others and started to dive for Corner's head. Flitwick was already on his feet and moving quickly; Sirius could see ripples in the ranks as he passed. Corner turned bright red and a bowl of porridge rose, unsteadily, and wobbled towards Clearwater. 

"They've gone mad," Lily said, somewhere behind him, and he nodded, not turning around. 

"DO NOT!" Corner roared, and flipped the porridge onto Clearwater's head. 

Sirius felt something bounce off his own chest and looked down to see James mouthing "Moony" at him and making anxious face. He took one more look at the battling Ravenclaws (now that would be something to tell Moony, and make him laugh) and pushed his way to the door of the Great Hall.

**

"Right, gentlemen, Professor Slughorn has provided me with your antidotes -- a full day early, but he assures me they are quite ready," Pomfrey said, standing in the middle of the ward. Her hat was somewhat askew, Remus noticed, with a tiny jolt of alarm. "You'll be staying in here this evening, so I can – keep an eye on you. You'll follow the same rules as you would in the Tower, and if there's any nonsense you'll be scrubbing bedpans with no magic," she added, with a grim smile, and Remus saw James' shoulders slump briefly. She handed them each a small vial of blue-green potion and watched as they drank it.

"Eurgh," Sirius said, and made a face. Remus grunted in agreement, and lay down on the bed. He was very eager for the antidote to hurry up and work, so this – disaster – could be over. He wanted his own body back the way it was supposed to be, and he wanted Sirius' body back the way it was supposed to be as well, so he could stop thinking about kissing him all the time, or running a hand over his breasts, or any of the other myriad horrifying possibilities his brain had presented him with over the course of the last four days, since that bloody kiss. Which was also all Peter's fault. 

After a minute he sat up and dug his History of Magic book out of his bag, and settled down with his homework. Peter was still not speaking to him – frankly he wasn't speaking to Peter, either, unless it was the kind of speaking that involved fists and elbows – and he was mildly annoyed with James as well, on the grounds that Peter was his responsibility. 

And he had decided he had to stay as far away from Sirius as possible, lest things go even more wrong than they had already. Sirius had cornered him in the DADA classroom that morning and – and – well, he'd done what he always did, offered himself for punching or being shouted at, and Remus had found he couldn't bring himself to punch or shout, in fact he had stood there, full of rage and unable to even talk, until Sirius had narrowed his silver eyes and rocked forward like he was going to give Remus a hug, but in the end he didn't, he just started talking about the bizarre bust-up at the Ravenclaw table. And then Remus had spent the entire class period thinking about how pleasantly squashy Sirius was, really, and that a hug might not have been so very awful, and simultaneously wanting to Obliviate himself.

After a while Remus realized he was not absorbing a single goblin-related fact, and put the book away, in favor of the wireless. He twirled the dial until he came across the Harpies locked in fierce battle with the Wasps and listened to that until he fell into a pleasant doze. He could hear bangs! and pops! coming from the floor, and reckoned the others were playing Exploding Snap. 

He rolled over on to his side when he felt the dull ache start in his lower back, and tried to think about calming things. It wasn't the same burning, tearing feeling as with the wolf, but it made his heart speed up just the same. _Just a tail_ , he thought, and pulled a pillow close. _Just a tail, it's all right_ , and thought about breathing. How he had got through this the first time _in class_ he had no idea. Perhaps it helped that he had been asleep. _Not long now_ , he thought, _be all over soon_ , and tried to relax. His back clenched one more time and then he felt quite light – quite, yes, tail-less – 

"—and then I'll tell Rabbie exactly what I think of him, the wee waste of skin –" James said, a little hoarse, and then whooped loudly, realizing his voice was back.

"Ears!" Peter said, happily, and Remus sat up to see Peter had, indeed, returned to normal.

"Sirius?" James said, twisting around, and they all watched as he pulled his pajamas out and looked down.

"Cock!" he said, bouncing up, and Remus noted with great joy that he no longer had breasts that bounced with him. James jumped up and they spun around, clinging to each other, shouting about Slytherins and cock until Pomfrey called out that other people were _trying to sleep here_ and they abruptly broke apart.

"Cock!" Sirius said again, and jumped onto Remus' bed. "I have my cock back!" he hissed, and Remus laughed, as amused as he was relieved. "Going to go wank now," he added, and jumped off the bed and ran for the bathroom.


	11. A Revolting Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 14 The milk is all spoiled, and so we cannot have tea.
> 
> WARNINGS: James POV, and also, amphibians in places they shouldn't be.

"Hogsmeade this weekend," Peter said, and popped a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

"Hmm," James said, and swallowed his eggs. He leaned back on the bench and twisted his body towards the 4th years girls.

"Oi, Evans!" he said, and thought, for a moment, she might have turned to look at him. She might even have smiled, before she tilted her chin up and looked straight at Murphy, who was looking at him, and quite obviously laughing behind her hand.

"No," Evans said, quite clearly.

"Haven't even asked the bloody question yet, have I?" James said, doing his best to sound injured. "Might've been asking for you to pass the milk, or the scones –"

At that a plate of scones and ewer of milk levitated themselves off the table and floated serenely down the table before settling themselves neatly in front of James' plate. 

"Blueberry," Sirius said, sounding pleased, and snaffled the one nearest him. "Cheers, Evans," he added, with a smile that made her flush pink, and very briefly James wanted to jam the scone up his nose. 

"But – Evans – I haven't asked in – at least a week," he said, trying to convey the idea that he had been a _very_ good boy, really, and deserved a reward, and also the very _rightness_ and _necessity_ of her consenting to walk down to the village with him. And perhaps they could kiss a little, too. In fact, the more he thought about it, the better he liked the idea; some walking, some kissing, perhaps some more walking, and then definitely some more kissing. He hoped she wouldn't mind that he and Sirius had a good deal of shopping to do in Zonko's. And Remus would probably want to stop in to Honeydukes; perhaps he could park her with Remus for the Zonko's part.

"Only because you couldn't actually make any noise, Potter," she snapped, turning towards him and pushing her hair back. She really did have a lovely neck. "And don't think I didn't feel you hanging about all the time, you bloody great nuisance," she added, inhaling deeply, which he wanted to tell her was _very distracting_. She had a lovely neck and and a lovely bosom.

"Potter, you are such a pig," she said, and he wondered if she had read his mind, and if so, what else she might have seen in there. He concentrated very hard on an image of himself kissing her. He added some flowers, because he knew she liked flowers. But she just continued to glare at him, so perhaps she couldn't read his mind after all.

"We could double, you know," Peter said, thoughtfully. "Or triple – quadruple, even, if we found dates for Remus and Sirius. That's a funny word, isn't it, quadruple. Quadruu-" he began, but James, watching the expression on Evans' face, smacked him in the back of the head. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Remus reach out and take a scone, frowning faintly. Perhaps he didn't like blueberry.

"That would work," James said, ignoring Peter's outraged muttering and Remus' increasingly wide-eyed expression. "So it's sorted, you'll come to Hogsmeade with me, and Pettigrew will go with York, and, er, Sirius can go with–" he turned to look at Sirius, waiting for him to fill in a name, and noticed he and Remus were not paying any attention at all. In fact they seemed to be hypnotized by the ewer of milk.

"I'm not bloody going anywhere with you, ever," Lily snapped, and James inhaled, preparing himself for the row –

"Frogs," Sirius said, very quietly, and Remus nodded, clutching his scone against him. James saw Peter frown, push himself up off the bench, and incline his head over the milk. There was a brief pause, and then the 5th year section of the table erupted in screaming, and there was milk everywhere – on his glasses, on his robes, on the table, on the floor – and the air was full of toads. He stretched his arms out and moved to shield Evans from the green warty menace, but she ducked away, wand waving, and soon the toads were bouncing off her and landing on the table and benches. 

"MISTER POTTER!" McGonagall roared, pushing through the milk-soaked crowds, two toads clinging to the brim of her hat, and James knew immediately that protesting his innocence was pointless.

**

"Didn't get any tea," Remus muttered, hiding a yawn behind his hand, and Sirius grunted into the crook of his elbow. All four of them had arrived in History of Magic slightly late and still damp, ears ringing and Marauderish dignity smarting from McGonagall's completely undeserved reduction of twenty five points for spoiling everyone's breakfast. The Hufflepuffs had made a knot of themselves in the front of the room and were regarding their classmates with disbelieving expressions and wrinkled noses. Binns had glanced up at them briefly and then carried on with his lecture.

"Bloody Slytherins," Remus added, and Sirius made a small noise that might have been a smothered laugh, or a little sigh. "Never win the Cup this way."

"We'll find the Chamber of Secrets and kill the monster," James said, turning his head slighty to look at them, "they'll have to give it to us then. Putting down an ancient evil, n'that." And Evans would _have_ to speak to him then, wouldn't she? 

"Have to make her jealous," Peter said, and propped his chin in his hands. "Brambles hangs about with York," he added.

"Spotty," James said, and saw Remus shakes his head out of the corner of his eye.

"And there's you not minding, isn't it," Peter said, reaching into his bag for a bit of parchment. "Remus can take Jones –"

"I will not," Remus said, sounding annoyed, and James rubbed at his eyes. He smelled milky and it made him unhappy. And now his friends were being prats as well. All he wanted was some walking and kissing and Zonko's.

"Sirius can take Auldwylde," Peter continued, undaunted, and got a slap to the back of the head. He turned and gave Sirius a shove, his lips pressed tightly together, and James was forced to kick Sirius hard to prevent an outbreak of hostilities.

"I'm allergic to Madame Puddifoot's," Remus said, and sniffled, as if to prove a point.

James opened his mouth to tell them he was allergic to arseholes when there was a small _atchoo!_ and a louder _whomp!_ and three Hufflepuff desks caught on fire.

**

"Form up, Gryffindor," Longbottom said, but so quietly James almost didn't hear him, amid the chatter of the Common Room. "I said FORM UP, Gryffindor," he repeated, sounding annoyed, and there was a general scrambling and flapping of robes. James shoved his way in to stand next to Peter, in front of Remus and Sirius. After the disaster at breakfast, lunch and dinner had also been milkless and tealess, and most of Gryffindor was cranky and wilting, the Marauders included. 

Before Longbottom called them up, Remus had been dozing with his head on the arm of one of the couches, homework forgotten, and Sirius had been curled up next to him on the seat. And despite three wrestling matches, the Hogsmeade question had still not been resolved. Though James felt that, given he had pinned Sirius two times out of three, his wishes should carry the day. He turned around and gave Sirius a dirty look, and got a sneer in reply. 

"Right," Longbottom muttered, and tucked his wand under his arm. "Alice?" he added, and she moved to stand beside him, her curly brown hair pulled oddly tight against her head. James felt Sirius poke him in the back, questioningly, and shrugged.

"Shoes off," she said, and moved towards the Firsties. "Shoes off, come on, all of you, and socks as well. Quickly now, we all have work to do. Toes out, please."

"Toes?" Peter said, and looked down at the tops of his shoes, and then at James'. James heard Remus sigh, and there was a general jostling and muffled complaining as boots were untied and socks removed. James wiggled his toes (all present and correct, as far as he could tell) against the scratchy scarlet carpeting and turned around to finish the Hogsmeade row with Sirius.

"Potter," Sirius said, looking at him quite steadily, one hand on Remus' curled back, the other peeling a sock off, "how old were you when you had the Dragon Pox?"


	12. Detour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 15 Music: "John, Come Kiss Me Now"
> 
> Warnings: I have taken the symptoms of Dragon Pox as discussed in the Lexicon and embroidered liberally.

_Nurses Report_

__**From:** Poppy Pomfrey, School Nurse   
**To:** Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster  
 **Subject:** Potential Dragon Pox Epidemic 

_**Disease Name:** Dragon Pox_

_**Blood profile:** Dragon Pox affects all wizards and witches equally, without regard to Blood status. _

_**Symptoms:** Unusual irritability/aggression, blue-purple rash between toes, fever, malaise, headache, vomiting, sparks when sneezing, red, green, black and yellow spots ("pox") in advanced stages of the disease._

_**Method of transmission:** Dragon pox is an air-borne virus, and as such can be transmitted by coughing and sneezing. It travels quickly, especially in close quarters._

_**Incubation period:** 2-3 days_

_**Infectius period:** Persons who have contracted Dragon Pox are infectious from the moment of acquisition until the last pox dries up and falls off, or for about one week, and should be quarentined as soon as the disease has been successfully diagnosed. _

_**Treatment:** Isolation, to prevent further transmission of the disease; bed rest and fluids, internal application of infusion of Dragon's Blood and Calamus herbs, external application of murtlap and dittany to ease itching and prevent scarring._

_**Summary:** Five students were brought to the Hospital Wing showing symptoms of Dragon Pox; three are from Hufflepuff and two are from Ravenclaw. They are receiving treatment and have been confined to a closed ward, and I have contacted the Heads of their Houses regarding the supervision of students who may have become infected and are not yet presenting symptoms._

_I have also spoken with the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor, and as of this evening, successful reviews have been conducted within both houses, and no cases of infection have been discovered. I have also met with Head Boy Frank Longbottom and Head Girl Alice Prewitt to discuss the situation._

_In addition, I have done a brief survey of school medical records -- a sample of 200 pupils from First through Seventh Years plus all staff members – the results of which could be extrapolated to suggest that a significant portion (70%) of the Hogwarts student and staff population have already had Dragon Pox as small children, and so should not be re-infected._

_Finally, I have contacted St. Mungo's to advise them of the situation and to request a shipment of the infusion used in treatment and as many dragon's hide sheets and pillowcases as they can spare._

**

"It's just a manky spot, Potter, you aren't ill," Longbottom said, and Remus saw James' shoulders relax. "As you were, the rest of you. Anyone who's been snogging Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, go and see Madame Pomfrey if you start to feel unwell," he added; Peter went a little pale, and Sirius sighed pointedly. Remus made his way back to the couch and settled down to his Herbology essay.

"My night for the room," Peter said, and James and Sirius waved him away, intent on their quarrel. Remus read about asphodel and half-listened to them snipe at each other, James' voice rising in pitch to a petulant whine, Sirius' side of the row degenerating rapidly from stubborn, irritated refusal to barely-contained rage, and Remus was about to throw a pillow at them to break it up (and perhaps also suggest that going anywhere with Hufflepuffs was ill-advised, just now) when Alice Prewitt hit both of them with a silencing spell.

"Bless you, Alice," someone said, and it sounded like Lily.

"Potter, go to your room until you can stop being an arse, and Sirius – go sit in the far corner, by the portrait hole," Alice said, and James shook his head, while clawing at his throat. Alice arched one perfect brown eyebrow and waved her wand, taking the spell off. Sirius picked up his satchel and stalked off, not even looking at James. Remus could see from his face that they were going to have a long, sulky night ahead of them.

"Can't go to the room, it's Peter's night –" James began, and Alice waved a hand at him. 

"Fine, fine, stop right there – wait, shouldn't you be in detention, all of you?" she asked, her gaze swinging between the three of them.

"Not until 8 o'clock," James muttered, and she made a noise of understanding.

"Fine – then you can come here and help us with our Transfiguration homework until then, hmm?" Alice said, patting the sliver of sofa next to her, and the Firstie next to her scooted over, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe. James groaned, but went and sat, and Remus saw Alice slip an arm around the curve of his back and give him the tiniest of squeezes.

Remus turned to look at Sirius, and saw he was glaring at James (and Alice) and something in Sirius' face made him want to get up and sit down next to him, and pull him down and – and – Remus could barely even think the word – cuddle him and pet him until he laughed or smiled or possibly even – _No_ , Remus thought, firmly, and stood up. _Library_ , he thought, _have to go to the library. Can stay there until detention._

He scooped up his satchel and walked out as casually as possible, deliberately giving Sirius a wide berth. _He's a boy again,_ Remus thought, dismissing the idea that he was probably still pleasantly squashy. _He's a boy and I'm a boy and boys do not cuddle and pet each other on the floor or the sofa or anywhere else._ He glanced back once and saw a couple of 3rd and 5th year girls had carefully re-arranged themselves to be sitting near Sirius – but not too near –clearly ready to provide any cuddling or petting that might be required when Alice let Sirius out of the corner. _Girls_ , Remus thought, _we need girls. I need a girl._

**

For a little while he wandered the stacks without paying attention to where he was going, pulling books down to feel their pages or smell their bindings, his mind wandering in dizzying circles of _girls—Sirius—girls_ , including Sirius _and_ girls, together, until he had to sit down and stare fixedly at the carpet until his vision cleared. He took a deep breath and tried to think calming thoughts. After a while he felt his pulse slow down as the panic receded.

"This is pointless," he whispered, turning to rest his head against something that had an embossed leather binding. _I'm a werewolf, I can't date_ , he thought, and sighed. _But I want to_ , he thought, rubbing at his eyes. His headache had come back, his stomach felt uneasy, and his eyes hurt from too much reading and not enough tea. He turned to face the bookcase, pulling his knees under him, feeling something very like anger welling up in him – at the world, at Sirius, for being attractive, at Peter for making them kiss and causing this sorry mess. He had _liked_ snogging Sirius, when he was a girl, he had liked it very much, and he wanted to do it again. He wanted to do it a _lot_. He wanted to sit with someone on his lap and have them twine their fingers in his hair and –

He pushed himself away from the books and gave himself a shake. _It's only kissing_ , Peter had said, and it was – he saw people kissing all the time, by the Lake, or in nooks in corridors, or even in the Library. Kissing didn't have to mean anything. _I'm allowed kissing_ , he thought, feeling stubborn, _I am_. 

He pushed himself up, checked his watch and started wandering again, at a slightly slower pace, until he heard someone giggle. It was a sharp, high-pitched giggle, quite unlike Lily's low chuckle, or Maggie's rolling belly laugh. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he lowered the book he was inhaling and turned towards the sound anyway. Camellia Butcher and Freda Perkins, Lily's roommates, were staring at him from deep within the – he glanced up, and wanted to fall through the floor with shame – Muggle Romance section, and they each had a book in their hands. 

"Are you _lost_ , Remus?" Camellia asked, setting her book down on the shelf, and exchanging a speaking look with Freda. "What've you done with Potter and Black?"

"Alice put them in the corner," he said, and Freda snorted. "Not together," Remus added, hastily. "Actually, James isn't even in the corner, he's sitting with Alice –"

"Shameless," Freda murmured, and Remus noticed her lips were really _very_ red.

"Being punished," he offered, trying to push Sirius out of his mind, and that time Camellia snorted.

"Greedy, is what she is," she added, "having Longbottom and making a grab for Potter as well."

"Alice – Alice is _not_ – James – Lily! – " he began, horrified, and Camellia waved him to silence with one slim, pale hand, tugging her robes over her – really quite large – bosom at the same time. 

"Can we – help you find something?" Camellia asked, moving closer to him. He caught the faint scent of lavender, mixed with ink and perhaps a tiny bit of milk. Remus reached a hand out and grabbed on to a bookcase, feeling a little dizzy and lost. _I'm allowed kissing_ , he reminded himself. 

"Um," he said, unsure of how to start the conversation. James had used every line any of them knew on Lily, and had gotten nothing but slapped, shouted at or hexed for his trouble. He had watched Jordan and Shacklebolt chat girls up before, but – well, they weren't much for actual chatting, it had to be said. He had always meant to ask Jordan how they did it, for James' benefit if not for anyone else's, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"Are you looking for a particular book, or books on a specific subject?" Camellia said, laughter rippling through her voice.

Remus paused and looked at her properly for a moment; she had a pleasant face, not too broad, not too skinny, plump little lips, pert nose, all framed by loosely curled brown hair. She looked like every vaguely pretty English girl he had ever seen sitting by the fire at Aunt Fiona's on a wet summer day, knitting and talking to whoever was nearby. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he swung his gaze over to Freda. She was slimmer, and wore her dark hair loose down her back. Like Sirius, he thought, and turned back to Camellia. Something nagged at the back of his mind – some reason she should be off limits –

"Brown," he said, and Camellia blinked at him. He was vaguely aware that Freda was rolling her eyes at him – possibly at both of them

"Chucked him for whinging," she said, lips curving in a smile, and Freda seemed to choke on something, forcing Camellia to slap her quite hard on the back.

"I'll just be going," Freda murmured, straightening up. "See you back in the Tower, yeah?"

"Yeah," Camellia said, tucking one brown curl behind her ear, and moved closer to Remus.

"I have detention soon," he said, feeling very stupid. He had the feeling this was not going right, that there was something he should say –

"Ah well, but you can come and kiss me now, hmm?" she said, and then there was a mouth on his, and she was pressing him against the books, she was warm and a little heavy – he could feel the spines of four different books pressing against his ribs -- and her tongue felt odd on his teeth. But overall it was good; when she pulled away he realized he was a little breathless, and she was flushed pink and somewhat disheveled.

"That was nice," he said, and she gave him a smile.

"Detention," she said, and he nodded, hoping it looked apologetic. "See you later, then. Hope Filch doesn't make you do anything really filthy."

There was a brief pause, while she straightened her robes and he tried to think of something else to say to her. She gave herself a little shake, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

"Same time tomorrow," she said, pulling back, more command than question, and walked off through the stacks, picking up her book as she went.


	13. Doubleback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 16 Photograph: Four boys playing at marbles with easter eggs
> 
> WARNINGS: Sirius experiences a flashback to an abusive situation that includes a depiction of graphic violence against house elves. Also, Remus is still on his Detour.

"And for pudding," Peter whispered, digging his elbow into Sirius' ribs, "I'll have whatever Remus had for breakfast. In fact I'll have two helpings," he added, and Sirius grunted, pulling his dinner roll apart. Remus had been even more vague than usual all day, his eyes focused on something that seemed to be just over their collective shoulders, or perhaps out the window. He was smiling – faintly – the corners of his mouth just barely turning up – so he wasn't sulking, exactly, or moping. He had been civil enough to Peter at detention the previous evening, and had even taken an (accidental) bucket of soapy water over the head with nothing more than a token amount of muttered cursing and one half-hearted hex. 

The whole thing made Sirius very uneasy, and he had been fighting the temptation send a _finite incantatem_ flying towards Remus' nose for most of the afternoon -- though it did seem unlikely that the Slytherins would have hexed Remus into _happiness_. He had briefly considered a love potion as a possibility as well, but – well, he hadn't seen any unfamiliar girls hanging about, so perhaps not. He looked up at Remus again, wedged tightly between James and Camellia Butcher, and suppressed a sigh. Butcher was going on about the difficulty of Sprout's essay, and how much time she had to spend in the Library, and Remus was still smiling pleasantly, though perhaps a tiny bit of mischief had crept into his expression. 

Sirius was about to ask him what he was thinking about, and did it include any explosions, when the crockery re-adjusted itself and two steaming soup toureens appeared on the table. Sirius stood up and picked up the ladle, and leaned over to see what sort of soup it was – _potato leek_ —nose and brain registered together, and then _Your father and uncle are absent, it must be you_ , Aunt Drue said, _it is the duty of the Head of the House_ , the ivy on her Easter hat waving as her head moved. 

And Topsy turned to look at him from the center of the wreckage of the dropped tea service, tipping her head up, her ears unnaturally still, her hands flat against the her dirty, dishrag pinny, Aunt Lucretia sipping her brandy and giggling behind her hand, whispering to her neighbor something that included the word _Gryffindor_. He looked at the door for a moment, wishing for his father to come through it, and then he heard himself announce he would take her in the kitchen – _No_ , Aunt Drue said, _you'll do it here, as a lesson to the rest of them. Turvy! Everose! Sugalump! Cabbatulip! Come here --_

And they all popped into the dining room, wringing their bony hands and screaming at Topsy for being a bad, clumsy elf, for dropping the tea service and distressing the witches and wizards, even as they bustled around her, gathering up the dropped things, Turvy glaring at her – sister? mother? daughter? –Sirius had never been sure -- promising Aunt Drue that they would all iron their fingers later. But Topsy said nothing, just jumped up on Sirius' chair and stood there, her enormous eyes unreadable. He turned his head, ignoring the distant sound of Rosier's laughter, and realized he had an open path to the kitchen. If he could get there and lock the door – 

Topsy squeaked when he grabbed her and ran for it – but then the solid ground fell away, and everything became screaming, his mother's voice the loudest, until he was back at the table, Aunt Drue's wand-tip pressed against the base of his skull, whispering the spell in his ear that made his wand grow a bayonet, that sent Topsy's head flying, ears flapping, until it landed in the soup. There was a long silence, as the soup grew pink, so pink, against the green tablecloth, as his brother aunts uncles cousins hangers-on put up their napkins in refined dismay, and –

"Sirius!" James said, and he sat down hard on the bench, trying to remember how to breathe. He felt a small hand on his right shoulder – _Evans_ – and did his best not to flinch away from her. He was vaguely aware that the room had gotten very quiet; he could feel eyes on him, and wondered what he had been doing. He glanced briefly at the Head Table and saw McGonagall was on her feet, napkin pressed against her tartan stomach. 

"All right, mate?" Remus said, from quite nearby, and Sirius felt him sit down on the bench, one hand resting on Sirius' forearm. He nodded, not daring to look up, and went back to thinking about breathing, aware Remus was talking to James, and then James was walking towards the Head Table. Remus and James would sort it out, somehow, and James would tell McGonagall something that she would believe.

He felt Remus press one hand against his forehead, and then two fingers beneath each of his ears, and then a hand under his chin, tugging upwards. The smile had faded, and had been replaced with a puzzled frown. Sirius felt his stomach settle a little, with the familiar touch, Remus' hands cool, rough and comforting against his skin.

"Just – felt a bit funny," Sirius said, as the general dinner chatter came back, and Remus chewed on his lip. "I'm fine." He suppressed the urge to slide forward and rest his head on Remus' shoulder. He was suddenly very tired, and not hungry at all. Someone – Peter – shoved a dinner roll into one of his hands anyway.

"Told her you'd seen a Grim in the leeks," James said, coming back. The bench creaked as Remus stood up and exchanged a complicated look with James. "She said you're to finish your dinner and have a bit of a lie-down before detention," James added, and Remus made an approving noise.

"Remus' night," Sirius said, automatically, part of him bristling at being sent to bed like a child, part of him deeply grateful that he wasn't going to be hauled into McGonagall's office (or worse, Dumbledore's) and forced to explain himself. 

"What? Oh – trade you for tomorrow, Sirius, it's all right. I have a pile of work to do anyway – " Remus said, the smile broadening. "I'll just run up now and get some extra books," he added, mostly to himself, and with one final pat on Sirius' shoulder, turned and left the Hall.

**

"Remus!" he hissed, peering around the edge of the Potions stacks. But there was no Remus there, just as there had been no Remus in Herbology, Charms or History of Magic. Sirius glanced at his watch and set off for the Care of Magical Creatures – Dark Creatures section, humming quietly to himself. He did feel a bit better for having had a nap, even if James had woken him up by jumping on the bed until he fell off. _And_ James had had a note from McGonagall sending them down to Sprout for the night, instead of Filch. _Ripe puffapods_ , Sirius thought, smiling, and rounded a corner and found Remus –

\--and Camellia Butcher, snuggled up in a chair in the Muggle Romance section, apparently trying to chew each other's faces off.

"Remus?" he said, and winced when it sounded squeaky. Remus didn't seem to hear him; instead he shifted slightly, settled one arm around Camellia's waist, and pulled her closer. She made a contented noise and Sirius ducked back behind one of the ranges, vaguely aware his mouth was dry, his heart was pounding, and he really, really wanted to tell Butcher she was doing it all wrong. His fingers itched with the memory of Remus' hair, so silky and smooth, and for a moment he could feel the _wet warm soft_ of his mouth.

_Oh Merlin, oh no no no no_ , he thought, and started walking, taking aisles at random, stepping over reading and napping students, walking straight through one game of marbles – they were painted like easter eggs -- trying to think of what he was going to tell James. _Remus has a girlfriend. Remus is snogging Butcher. Remus is snogging Butcher and she's doing it all wrong, I did it better_ – _**No**_. He sat down at a table and dropped his head in his heads. The whole situation was just impossible. He had his cock back and Remus didn't have a lovely silky warm tail and he did not want to snog Remus any more, he didn't. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to think about snogging Butcher, but that didn't work, either -- Remus' hurt, angry face kept popping in front of his eyes. He sighed and switched to Perkins, and then Murphy, his fists clenching with the effort, but – it was no use.

"I've had a long day," he said, mostly to his elbows. "I've had a very long day, and this is ridiculous," he added, and unclenching his fists and pulling at his hair. _I'm going mad_ , he thought. _Barmy. Around the twist. Going to be talking to tiny pink elephants in my teacups next, like Granny Irma._

"Sirius!" Peter said, from quite nearby, and Sirius' head jerked up in surprise. "Where's Remus, then? It's almost eight, and James is going bloody spare – thought you might've had another funny turn – come on, he has to be in here somewhere," he added, moving off back the way Sirius had come. Peter was still muttering to himself when they turned down the last Herbology aisle and found them – _Still doing it wrong_ , Sirius thought, as Peter shrieked in surprise, Camellia gave them all a self-satisfied smirk and Remus blushed like a tomato.


	14. Laying Tinder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 17 Song: The Lucksmiths: Midweek Midmorning
> 
> WARNINGS: Mention of lots and lots of insufferably schmoopy people that are *not* Remus and Sirius, at least, not together.

"—how'd you do it?" James asked for the tenth time, dropping one leg over the bench and wriggling until Sirius had to change chairs or fall on the floor. He went and sat with Peter and watched Remus shrug and worry his cuffs with his fingers. He was still grinning, and no wonder; being discovered in the Library had loosened his – or maybe Camellia's – stays, and they had snogged through breakfast and lunch and every break that day, in fact every time Sirius looked at Remus, he seemed to develop a dire need for that -- for his – _girlfriend_ —to clean his tonsils. And when they weren't kissing, Camellia was feeding him bits of his meals and crooning at him. It was _revolting_ , and Sirius wanted to stab the pair of them with a fork, repeatedly. 

Furthermore, whatever Remus had appeared to be catching – there was Dragon Pox about, you'd think that would put people off – but no, suddenly kissing couples were in every nook and cranny, and behind every arras, slurping and chewing on each other. Even _Longbottom_ had been affected, for Merlin's sake; Sirius had seen him grab Alice Prewitt's hand and tug her behind a suit of armour after breakfast, a decidedly non-Head Boyish gleam in his eye.

"Pardon me, Potter, but I think that's my seat," someone – Camellia – trilled, and Sirius felt the space between his shoulders begin to itch. _No, you bloody great cow, it's **my** seat_ , he thought, and frowned down at his desk, which contained a hedgehog, but was sorely lacking in scorchmarks and had no slightly faded heart with Ted and Andromeda's initials in it. James gave Camellia a broad wink as he pushed himself up, which made her blush. 

Sirius felt Peter shifting next to him and sighed. Peter was the worst to sit next to during Transfiguration; it took him ages to get anything right. He was slightly less useless out of class, away from McGonagall's quelling stare, as he and James had discovered, but – Sirius was quite sure he and James would be Animagi already if they hadn't had to slow down for Peter. 

"Shift it, mate," James said in his ear, giving Sirius a little shove before all but sitting in his lap.

"Fuck off," Sirius muttered, punching James in the shoulder on his way out of the chair, making him grunt loud enough that Camellia whipped her head around to give them a disapproving look. Remus, the insufferable git, had his hand on her knee. 

" _Gentlemen_ ," McGonagall said, and Sirius picked up his hedgehog and stalked off to the back of the room, where there was an empty desk. It was, he decided, a very lonely and un-loved sort of desk, with chipped edges and one leg shorter than the other. He sat down, the bench creaking and shifting under his weight, set the hedgehog down carefully, and glared at Remus' back for a while. If Remus told James how to do whatever it was he'd done to Butcher, there'd be Evans to contend with as well, and then – and then – well, if Evans decided to feed James his breakfast any other way than tipping it over his head or shoving it up his nose, Sirius'd have to start taking his meals under the table.

_Or you could go and find your own girl_ , some insolent part of his mind reminded him, and Sirius turned to look out the window, not wanting to have the conversation, even with himself. It was sunny and clear outside, and suddenly he was reminded of every day he had spent at Grimmauld Place, where all he had ever wanted was _Out_ – to go and play with Reggie in the sunshine, away from his mother and the _things_ in the cabinets. 

_Going to have to do it eventually_ , the insolent part murmured, _the Tree must grow_ , prodding at him with an image of the bloody tapestry, the golden threads growing bright in the dimness of the living room. _Fuck off_ , Sirius told himself, and waved his wand at the hedgehog, turning it into a bright red pin cushion.

**

It took only three solid blows -- _Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!_ – to get the log to split. Sirius rested the axe-head on the ground carefully, and took a deep breath. Dinner – or rather, the walk to dinner – had been the absolute last straw. It was roast beef night, so of course James and Peter had run ahead, leaving him with Remus, who had promptly disappeared into a deserted classroom with Butcher. Sirius had made it most of the way down to the Great Hall before the 4th Year Slytherins came boiling out of the Charms classroom – he and Snape had exchanged glares and tripping hexes and were gearing up for a proper set-to when bloody Flitwick poked his head out of his classroom and told them to move along. 

They had snarled bruising hexes at each other (Snape missed) and stomped off down the corridor – and then Sirius had stopped for _one minute_ to take a closer look at a painting and had gotten trapped in a tide of whispering, giggling, kissing, cuddling Hufflepuffs, and gave up entirely on dinner. He broke free and slipped out the front door and down the path to the little cluster of buildings behind Hagrid's hut, where he had burned off the edge of a deep desire to break something with the help of a sharp axe, a handy log and a broad tree stump. Technically, he supposed it was Longbottom's place – he'd mentioned it, once, in passing, that he came down here to help Hagrid out, sometimes – but Sirius reckoned he wouldn't mind sharing, this once. 

Sirius rested for a moment, letting the cool air blow over his sweaty neck, before starting again. He had got through five more logs when Hagrid himself appeared, swinging his umbrella and smoking his pipe. 

"Oh, there ye are, Mr. Black," he said, and Sirius lowered the axe slowly, wondering if he was going to get more detention. He hadn't done anything _wrong_ , not really – students were allowed to miss meals, if they liked. It was just that people didn't, usually. "Yer friends have been lookin' for ye," Hagrid added, taking a deep draw on the pipe.

"They have not," Sirius muttered, pulling the axe close against him. He knew very well that James had probably spent the entire meal staring at Evans, and Remus wouldn't have noticed if the Castle fell on him, much less if there was one empty seat at dinner. And Peter – well, if James wasn't worried, neither was Peter.

"I'll just send McGonagall a note, let her know ye turned up," Hagrid continued, as if he hadn't heard, and Sirius sighed. He _was_ going to get shouted at, he could tell. "Cup o' tea?" Hagrid asked, and Sirius nodded, suddenly aware that his arms ached and his stomach was growling. He laid the axe against the tree stump and followed Hagrid inside his hut.

**

"Hogsmeade's been cancelled," James said, looking up from the cauldron he was scrubbing, his face slightly pink from exertion, "because of the Pox. No-one's allowed into town at all for the next week. Now give us the sodding bucket, Remus, so we're not here all night."

"Camellia and I are having a picnic by the Lake, instead," Remus said, as the bucket of soapy water settled into place by James' knee. Sirius was not sure what sort of response he was supposed to make -- was sympathy expected? Or perhaps it was meant to be a warning? He ducked his head and went back to scrubbing a stubborn spot on his cauldron. It looked like someone had burned a bit of boomslang skin into the metal on _purpose_.

"We're meant to be looking for the entrance to the Chamber tomorrow," Peter said, "James and I worked it out. We'll get up early and make a proper day of it."

"So I'll catch you up, after the picnic," Remus said, his voice developing a sharp edge. 

"Or you could just not come at all," Sirius said, before he could stop himself. "Spend the day lolling about with – her."

"No, he can not, it needs all of us," Peter said, waving the bucket towards himself.

"Sirius –" James began, but the sound of Remus clearing his throat stopped him.

"Her name is Camellia," Remus said, very quietly, and inexplicably, _that_ did it. Sirius felt himself stand up and take a really deep breath before the row started – the whole thing seemed very far away – someone was yelling about common decency and ruined meals and someone else was shouting about being _allowed_ fancying people and kissing as much as anyone else, and while part of him was noticing that Remus seemed much sweatier than strictly necessary, just from scrubbing cauldrons, most of him was terribly, terribly angry, and the shouting eased an ache in his chest.

"ENOUGH!" James roared, and there was a sudden silence, that reigned for the rest of the evening, from the last cauldron to the faint _click_ as Remus' _Lumos_ flickered out.


	15. Cease-Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 18 Air is just warm enough to leave the window open and sleep with one blanket (or a friend)

"Oh, isn't it _romantic_?" Senga sighed, sitting down on the bench, and pulling up a bowl that was slowly filling with porridge. "Pass me the sugar, then, Peter," she added, and he obediently floated it over. 

"What's romantic?" he asked, when she had finished laying down a thin layer of white powder. She made an exasperated noise and set her spoon to stirring, while she did something female with her hair. Peter waited patiently, chewing on a bit of a bacon. People usually did explain things to him sooner or later.

" _Them_ , you great pillock," Senga said, and caught hold of her spoon. "Remus and Camellia and Sirius. Look at how he's pining for her, the poor thing," she added, gesturing at the far end of the table with her free hand.

Peter set his bacon down and turned his head; Sirius was curled over his French toast with a face like thunder, his hair sticking out all over his head. If experience were anything to go by, the Slytherins would be hexed black and blue by lunchtime. Normally Remus was in charge of defusing these sorts of situations, but – Peter turned his head the other way, just to be sure – _Remus_ was sitting between Camellia and Freda, peacefully eating his toast. James had tried to sort it out before breakfast, but had got nowhere with either of them. _He_ was down in the 5th year section, wedged between Shacklebolt and Jordan, probably discussing Quidditch moves.

"Looks a bit cross, really," he said, picking up his bacon again, and she shook her head, setting her golden curls shaking. He watched her eat for a while, out of the corner of his eye, silently grateful that Merlin had ever heard of bosoms and decided they belonged on girls. She was tipping the bowl to get at the dregs when the mail arrived, and a large horned owl glided past them, skimming over the top of the candles, and dropped an envelope in front of Sirius. 

_Oh, bloody hell_ , Peter thought, watching him pick it up and shake the contents out. _At least it isn't a Howler, I suppose._ Sirius' letters from his parents had been legendary in Gryffindor ever since his first day, when his mum's Howler had blown out the table candles as far over as Ravenclaw. 

"Bit of a crap thing to do, really," she added, "taking up with someone your mate's sweet on. We don't have that sort of carry-on in Hufflepuff." At that, Peter almost choked on his bacon.

"Sirius, sweet on _Butcher?_ " he managed, after she had pounded him on the back a couple of times. Peter glanced down at Sirius quickly, hoping he hadn't heard – Peter was in no mood for being turned into a toad – but Sirius was hunched over his breakfast again, the letter no-where to be seen. 

"Mmm," she said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Since last year, didn't you know?"

"Er, no?" Peter managed, wondering how such a vital piece of information could have got past him, or Remus, for that matter. Did _James_ know? "How do you reckon?"

"He talks to her in the Library, sometimes, he helped her re-pot her mandrake, once, in Herbology, and then this last winter he loaned her his gloves when she forgot hers one morning," she said. 

"But –" he began, ready to remind her that _all_ of the Marauders had taken part in the mandrake repotting, and that had been Second Year, anyway. But the talking in the Library – well, people did talk in the Library, and it didn't mean anything. And the gloves – hadn't that been Lily? And hadn't it been James' gloves, passed around with a great deal of ceremony, until she chucked them into Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and Sirius had had to give James his gloves to stop him complaining afterwards?

"I heard he fancies her rotten, but he's so shy he hadn't been able to say anything about it," she continued, taking a deep drink of her tea. "Just worships from afar, n'that. And now Lupin's gone and pinched her, the little sod, and worse luck for her as well. I mean, he's a nice enough bloke, but the Minister for Magic will never be at home to him, if you know what I mean."

Peter, who was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of "Sirius" and "shy" in the same sentence, stared at her, hoping his mouth hadn't dropped completely open. For her part, Senga settled her chin into her hand and sighed contentedly. He risked a glance up and down the table; Sirius had disappeared, and Remus had settled down for a post-meal snog. James was flapping his arms at Shacklebolt as if he were a great bird, and Evans was rolling her eyes at him.

He was about to answer her when the class bell rang, and she jumped up with a squeal, kissed him on the cheek, and ran after the departing Hufflepuffs.

**

_S. fancies C.?_ he scrawled, between writing down Potion ingredients, and sent it winging towards James, after making sure Slughorn wasn't looking. He had a tendency to catch notes and read them aloud.

_No?_ came the reply, just as he was finished peeling a shrivelfig. Peter pulled out a new piece of parchment and wrote down _Gloves. Mandrake. Talking in Library?_ and sent it back. There was a longer pause, this time, and then he felt the gentle pinch of a note behind the ear.

_Make sense, please, Pettigrew_ , James had written, and Peter turned around to glare at him, but James just kept stirring. One desk over, Sirius appeared to be sitting quietly, staring at his hands, which was never, ever a good sign. In fact it usually meant it was time to duck. Peter sighed, and turned back around just in time to prevent his cauldron from boiling over.

**

"Remus –" James said, settling back on his heels, scrub brush in his hand.

"No, James," Remus replied in an even tone, not even looking up from the floor he was scrubbing. They had been sent back to Filch again, for detention, and he had sent them off to scrub a deserted bit of the dungeons that weren't even _dirty_ , as far as Peter could tell. In fact it looked to him as if no-one had been down this corridor in _years_.

"Sirius –" James tried, turning his head the other way, but there was no answer but the sludgy sound of sponge on stone.

"You could have just said, you know," Peter muttered, half to himself, after they had scrubbed a few feet down the corridor, and James and Remus both looked over at him, clearly baffled. "That you fancied Butcher," he added, and Remus frowned.

"Peter –" James began, sounding annoyed, but Peter ignored him. He didn't like being shown up by a _Hufflepuff_ , of all people. Even if Senga did have very nice bosoms.

"How're we supposed to know she's off limits if you don't say? I mean, Remus wasn't to know –" he began.

"Don't fancy her," Sirius said, quietly. "Wouldn't matter if I did, anyway."

"Yes it _would_ ," Remus said, calling the soap bucket over. James ran his hand through his hair absently.

"You could've told James, anyway, if you were too shy to tell anyone else," Peter continued, and that time all three of them stared at him. "Senga – thought you were – you know – pining after her -- Camellia, I mean," he added.

"No," Sirius said, firmly, and went back to his scrubbing. Peter cut his eyes toward Remus, who was still frowning, and then back to James, who had moved to rubbing his temples. They scrubbed in silence for a while, the atmosphere growing denser and denser, until Peter couldn't take it anymore. 

Sirius and James had rows – they were noisy, someone got punched in the face, and then it was over; he and James and he and Sirius sometimes had rows, but those were usually sorted with a quick wrestling match, or two or three. Four, if James was feeling stroppy. Remus and James had been known to exchange the occasional sharp word or tersely worded note, but those never caused this awful quiet, and Sirius could usually intervene and sort things out if it was necessary. And sometimes Sirius did annoy Remus into shouting at him, or Remus teased Sirius until he got snappish. But this – this was _not on at all_.

"Right," Peter murmured, and dipped his sponge in the bucket. "Look, Sirius, I don't know why you've got your wand in a knot, here, but there's plenty of other birds about – Freda fancies you rotten, you know, you'd be well in, there –" he began, and heard James groan in the background.

"My wand is not in a knot," Sirius said, jamming his sponge into a crevice in one of the stone flagstones. "I would just like to be able to eat my meals without having to listen to Butcher slobbering all over the place. And I'd sooner snog a niffler than Freda Perkins."

"Freda isn't so bad," Remus murmured, pushing his hair off of his face. He did look rather pale. But perhaps it was just the light in the dungeons; it tended to make everyone look a little ill.

"Says the man dating the human remora," Sirius snapped, and Remus' eyes briefly blazed yellow before he ducked his head. James sighed and threw his sponge at Sirius, who growled and sent it hurtling back at him. 

"Look, I'm not bloody snogging anyone," Sirius said, after a minute. "I'm just– I don't want to be married yet," he added, and attacked the soap bucket with his sponge.

"Married?" Peter said, feeling that they had got off topic, somehow. Remus stilled, his head tilted to one side, and James' expression was unreadable.

"Nor do I want any children. Now, I mean," Sirius continued. "That was what happened to Uncle Cygnus. He went out for a snog in the Astronomy Tower in his 3rd Year and got Bella in return. Because the contract negotiations weren't moving fast enough for Aunt Drue. Then he got Andromeda for his O.W.L.S. and Narcissa for his N.E.W.T.S."

"Bloody hell," James murmured, and Sirius shrugged.

"It _is_ only kissing, Sirius," Remus said, though his voice was softer than it had been earlier.

"Doesn't matter, anyway, they're going to sell me into Eastern Europe," Sirius muttered, shaking his hair over his face. "Not worth anything here. Got the letter, today – two weeks each in Romania and Bulgaria, just me and mum." Peter watched as he fished his sponge out of the bucket and resumed scrubbing. There was another long silence, but this one was lighter, somehow, and he noted than Remus had moved closer to Sirius. A few flagstones later they were talking softly, and when he looked up at James, he got a broad grin before a sponge hit him in the head.

**

Later, full of illicit chocolate pudding and muzzy from sleep, Peter wandered past Remus' bed in search of a glass of water, and saw Sirius curled up under a blanket at the foot of the bed, while Remus was wrapped around his pillow, air whistling through his nose. He and James had never quite worked out why they did this – had done it, actually, since First Year – but it made him feel better to see it, just the same.


	16. In the Hospital Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 19: 144 hours of sunlight in the month of April
> 
> WARNINGS: Delerium and UST.

_Clinic Log – Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, April 13, 1975_

**Practitioner** : Poppy Pomfrey, School Nurse  
 **Beds occupied** : 30  
 **Beds available** : 70  
 **Current patients** : 25  
 **New Patients** : 5

 **Current DP cases** : Marked improvement in all instances; three Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs completely recovered and released to dormitories; 22 cases still confined to HW (7 Hufflepuff, 7 Ravenclaw, 4 Slytherin, 4 Gryffindor); see copies of HoH reports for additional details.

**Other current cases** : 2 cases bronchitis (Ravenclaw) much improved; 4 cases conjunctivitis (Slytherin) still unresponsive to treatment. Re-checked for presence of _known_ hexes or jinxes but none found. Re-questioned patients but rec'd no useful answer. Submitted request for assistance to HoH w/copy to Headmaster. 

**New DP cases** :

**Lupin, Remus (15), 4th Yr, Gryffindor** \-- Arr. Hospital Wing 10 AM Saturday, in state of half-consciousness, acc. by Potter, James (15), Black, Sirius (14) and Pettigrew, Peter (14), Butcher, Camellia (14), all 4th Yr Gryffindor and Prewitt, Alice (17), 7th Yr Gryffindor and HG. Presented rash between toes, visible red, green and black pox, high fever. Also presenting nausea, sparks at sneezing and excessive irritability, per Potter and Black. Administered 2 vials infusion of Dragon's Blood and Calamus and applied murtlap and dittany. Assigned patient to Bed 2, private ward, until fever breaks, due to pre-existing lycanthropic condition. Black, Potter, Pettigrew and Butcher all requested to remain with patient; charts indicate Black had DP in 1964, treated at SMH; Potter had DP in 1966, treated at SMH; Pettigrew and Butcher had DP in 1965, treated at SMH; all requests denied until fever breaks. 

**Snape, Severus (15), 4th Yr, Slytherin** – Arr. Hospital Wing 11 AM, under influence of _Stupefy_ , acc. by Black, Regulus (13), 3rd Year Slytherin. Presented rash between toes, visible red and green pox, high fever. When revived reported headache, malaise. Also presenting excessive irritability, per Mr. Black. Strongly suspect he has been dosing himself with home-brewed remedies poss. w/ help from HoH but did not share suspicion with patient. Administered 2 vials infusion of Dragon's Blood and Calamus and applied murtlap and dittany. Assigned patient to Bed 28. Black requested to remain with patient; chart indicates Black had DP in 1964, treated at SMH; request granted. 

Other new cases:

**Black, Sirius (14), 4th Year, Gryffindor** – Arr. Hospital Wing 10 AM in state of extreme agitation, acc. as noted above. Administered 2 vials Calming Draught; also conducted general check-up of injuries first recorded 1/4/75; abrasions on wrists completely healed, bruises on ribs and shoulders fully faded, cuts healing well and unlikely to scar. Some indications that patient may be in danger of becoming underweight, released to dormitory with instructions to eat three full meals per day.

**Black, Regulus (13), 3rd Year, Slytherin** – Arr. Hospital Wing 11 AM in state of extreme agitation, acc. as noted above. Also presented bruised knuckles, scratches on L. cheek and strained R. wrist. Administered 1 vial Calming Draught, Bruise-Ease and dittany; healed wrist but provided immobilizing bandage per patient request. Patient stated injuries received tripping in dorm room whilst carrying familiar of yearmate. Released to dormitory.

**McFarland, Soleil (17), 7th Yr Gryffindor** – Arr. Hospital Wing Noon, acc. by Alice Prewitt (17), 7th Yr Gryffindor and HG, presenting small cactus-like spines protruding from all sides of fore-arms and fingers. Also presented mild shock. Stated injuries received in course of working on DADA homework, and effects expected to wear off w/in an hour or two. Administered 2 vials infusion of willowbark and poppy, assigned temporarily to bed 40, regular ward. Sent note to Professor Eclipse requesting additional information re: homework assignment.

**

_Hot._ Bed—scratchy. _Cold._ Something – crawling, slowly; legs. One, two, three, four, soft little mouths, whiskery, spikey tongues, shoving –down. Wrists, elbows, gentle little nibbles, sharp spikes of pain. _Leithfold._ Snuck in somehow. Remus screamed for Sirius, for James, for Peter, _come get it off me_. Five, six, seven, eight mouths, sliding over his shoulders. _Sirius_. Pillow. Hot. Wet. Fingers burning but can still – grip – try to hit it –does a Leithfold have a head? -- _James_ – the pillow isn't working, he can feel nine, ten, eleven, twelve mouths, so delicate, so small, pinning him to the bed. _Going to die._ Something on the nightstand -- Potions vials. _No wand_. Squeeze and pillow and screaming, _hurts_. 

_Bang!_

Explosion? Door. Someone's coming. _Sirius_. Someone talking. Upset. _Didn't mean to_. Mouths are gone. Fingers – hands – itchy – so tired. Can sleep now. 

**

_\--how're we feeling today?_

Hot. Itchy. Head hurts. Smell bad. 

_Right then, open – Mr. Lupin, you won't get better carrying on this way. Lie still and open your mouth, please._

Broccoli mango strawberry bacon

Fingers – neck – cold wet _no_.

_Swallow now, please, Mr. Lupin._

Cold wet dripping trickling fingers _hurts_ go away

_Shhh, now, shh, it's all right. Just a little bit of salve, for the itching. Lie still, Mr. Lupin, be over much faster if you do._

Cold cold cold bed gone floating nonono 

_Rest now, Mr. Lupin. Shhhhh, rest now. I'll bring you some more nutritive potions in a little while._

**

Remus woke up to the sound of squirting and a foul smell that caused him to clench his jaw until the urge to spew passed. He lay still for a minute, wondering when his sheets had become scratchy and scaley. Something about the bed felt wrong as well – he stretched two fingers out carefully and felt for bed curtains, but there weren't any. _Hospital Wing_ , he thought, and pressed his face into his (also scratchey and scaley) pillow with a groan. He had probably missed the picnic, Camellia was going to be cross, and he had no idea what to do with a cross girlfriend. His parents didn't often have rows, but when they did, his father usually came home with flowers, or mucked out the pig shed without magic. Maybe he could ask Sprout if he could cut some flowers for her.

He sighed, pulled a hand up next to his face and opened one eye long enough to determine he was covered in black, red and green spots. _Dragon Pox_ , he thought. Surely Camellia would be understanding about it, then. He rolled on to his side and pulled his knees up. He could hear fans whirring, and the general clatter and low hum of chatter of the Hospital Wing, so he wasn't in a private ward, as he was after a transformation. 

"—arsehole. I _like_ these robes," someone said nearby, the voice almost familiar. Just _slightly_ out of timbre. And coming from the general direction of the floor. He opened an eye, carefully, and noticed the bed across from him had the curtain pulled nearly shut. Regulus Black was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in a pool of sunlight, his back to the bed, his bright red-gold hair braided back and tied with a black ribbon. There was a bandage on his right wrist, and he was also covered in slime.

"It is _gobstones_ , Reg," Sirius said, from the other side of the gobstones circle, and Remus could hear amusement in his voice. "Another go?"

"Oh, all right," Regulus muttered, waving his wand at himself. Remus shut his eye and dozed for a while, listening to them play. The gobstones rolled around the floor and bounced off the legs of the beds, and there was some discussion of the upcoming Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, whether or not the Squid was partial to Slytherins (Regulus thought it was), and Regulus did an imitation of someone -- Great-Auntie Cassiopeia? – drinking tea that made Sirius laugh out loud. Remus felt himself smile into his pillow. Then gobstones clinked together quietly, there another squirting noise, and more stench, and Sirius made an irritated noise.

"Got you!" Regulus crowed, and then there was a soft groan from the bed behind him. Remus opened his eye again and caught a glimpse of a dark hair and a pale, green and red spotted face, pinched with unhappiness, as Regulus rolled to his knees and ducked behind the curtain. He heard Sirius mutter to himself in Latin and the stench faded, and he made a relieved noise. 

"Remus? You're awake?" Sirius said, turning to face him. He looked pale and pinched, too, Remus noted, and nodded. Sirius grinned at him and reached out to push Remus' hair off of his neck, and Remus felt his stomach wiggle in a disturbing way. He closed his eyes and thought about Camellia. Who was going to be cross when he finally got out of here, and might not kiss him any more, which would be disasterous. 

"All right, Remus?" Sirius said, sounding worried. 

"'m fine," he muttered. "Itchy. Tired. How long have I been here?"

"Three days. We weren't allowed to come until today. James and Peter stopped in this morning, and Butcher was in at lunch-time, but you were still sleeping. There's murtlap, here, I'll get it – are you hungry? Pomfrey said you could have a bit of bread and milk if you woke up and wanted some," Sirius said, and Remus let him push a pot of salve into his hand while he considered the question. 

"All right," he said, and tried to sit up, but that made the room spin unpleasantly. He flopped down again, and closed his eyes. _Three days_. Well, the moon was still over a week away; he might actually catch up if he applied himself.

"I'll do it," Sirius murmured, and took the pot of salve away. Remus heard him unscrew the lid, and then there were gentle fingers on his face, spreading something cold and tingly across his cheekbones. He felt the goosebumps starting on his arms and jerked away, horrified. He'd spent almost two full days kissing Camellia and it was _still_ happening. He glanced over, saw Sirius' crestfallen expression and felt his stomach lurch. 

"'s all right," Remus said, "it's okay. I'm hungry, Sirius," he added, and suddenly he was hungry, ravenous, actually. Sirius handed him back the pot of salve, wiped his hands on his robes, rolled to his feet, and moved towards the bedside table. 

On the other side of the aisle, Regulus emerged from behind the curtain, and moved to stand next to Sirius. They spoke in low tones, too softly for Remus to hear, though he could see Sirius' shoulders tightening. After a minute Regulus picked up his satchel and moved off, and Sirius sat down on the bed, a bowl of milk and several torn up pieces of bread in his hand.

"We still haven't found it," Sirius said, and Remus blinked, confused, until he remembered _Oh, the Chamber_. He watched Sirius dip a piece of bread in the milk and swirl it around slowly, which made him feel a little dizzy. He closed his eyes and tried to think about how he had left the state of his homework – there might be one salvageable essay – 

"Oi, budge up," Sirius murmured, and there was hand under his shoulders, shifting him, while Sirius wedged himself in against the headboard. Remus lay back down, half-sprawled across Sirius' lap, and reached up for the bread.

"Your hands are covered in pox, you prat," Sirius said, batting his hand away, "you don't want to get that in your mouth, or you'll be spotty inside as well. Pomfrey will have to – cut your tongue off, or something," he added, and Remus frowned. Somehow that seemed unlikely. His stomach clenched, reminding him he was hungry, and when Sirius' wrist came by he nibbled on it.

"Ow, you bugger – all right, here," Sirius said, and then there were fingers tapping at his mouth, and milky bread on his tongue, so sweet and so good. There was another hand resting on his back, which was comforting, even if it did make his skin feel a little bit prickley and his stomach uneasy. After a minute or two, he fell into a little bit of a doze, rousing to admit the fingers, when they presented themselves, and sucking on the bread (and sometimes, maybe, the fingers) while Sirius gave him the news. He felt goosebumps starting, but decided to ignore them. _Can't feed myself_ , he thought, which was half-embarassing and half-soothing. 

James had asked Lily to a picnic and she refused; Longbottom had sprung a surprise broom drill on them that morning and seemed to be in a rare temper, and no-one knew why, Alice had checked his toes but he wasn't Poxed; Professor Eclipse had been seen muttering to himself and gesticulating wildy in the Library; Soleil McFarland had almost turned herself into a cactus and Lionel Lovegood had fetched up at the Fat Lady with a bouquet of flowers and the photographer for the Quibbler, even though he was supposed to be in Madagascar hunting for naugas; and finally, in a whisper, that he and James and Peter had led Filch on a merry chase through the dungeon corridors, and then Rosier had almost caught them, as well, but they had hidden in a broom closet (the legs beneath him clenched, briefly) and then escaped to the Tower. 

"And that's it," Sirius said, shifting out from under Remus even as one more piece of bread arrived in his mouth. Then Remus felt the hand on his back move, and that made him feel very cold all of a sudden. He must have made some sort of noise, because Sirius tugged the blanket up over his shoulders and patted him.

"Sorry, mate, have to go now – detention still, you know, and we're with Sprout again, on pruning duty. Camellia said she reckoned she could come by later, though, and –" Sirius coughed and flushed pink, "er, bring you your homework."

"Hmmph," Remus said, swallowed the bread, and fell asleep.


	17. Floral Arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 20  
> The apparition of these faces in the crowd;  
> Petals on a wet, black bough.
> 
> \--EZRA POUND, In a Station of the Metro

_April 16, 1975_

_Dearest Severus,_

_I am so sorry to hear you are feeling unwell. I do hope you are back among your pots and pans again soon – I myself am sorely in need of more of that lotion you sent last month. It smells just divine, and Lucious was – well, propriety forbids, but suffice to say it was most well received. I will be sending some additional flowers and a selection of rare barks under separate cover – see if you find anything you like that might suit me, or even Bella, since her birthday is coming soon. Meanwhile, difficult though it may be, I must ask you to have a word with dear Reg,_

"Oh, Remus, I've been so worried—" The voice, high pitched and female, jerked his head up. _Butcher_ , he thought, and sighed. He had thought his plague of Gryffindors was over, after Pomfrey chucked Pettigrew and Potter out for trying to play connect-the-dots with Lupin's spots while he was sleeping. Black hadn't been by at all – perhaps Rabbie and Evan had succeeded in sticking him to the ceiling of the Library as they had been planning. He briefly considered opening the curtain and glaring at them until she went away, but decided against it. Perhaps one of them would say something useful, if they thought he was sleeping . . .

"That horrible Pomfrey wouldn't let us in until yesterday, and then you were sleeping. Though you are terribly cute when you're asleep, did you know? Even if you are a bit spotty just now –" she continued, and Severus rolled his eyes. He heard muffled thumping and swishing and reckoned she must be plumping the fool's pillows. Or straightening his blankets, whatever one did with sick idiots. He tucked his toes into the hollows behind his knees and turned back to the letter.

_I'm hearing from many little birds that he is allowing his standards to slip. He was seen having lunch with Evangeline O'Hara – I'm afraid if she gets her hooks into him, well – if I have to spend Christmases with her, it'll be with the stockings jammed in her mouth. Auntie Walburga and I are working on locating someone appropriate for him, but if he **must** – I do know you boys have needs, you know – Jacqueline Vaisey or Sheila Urquhart would be far better suited, even if their families have slipped recently. We can't all be invited to private meals with the Minister every week, can we?_

_In other news, Lucius and I have set the date – the second Saturday in August -- and we do hope you'll be able to be there. I've had a word with Mama about funding you a nook at the Manor – that's Lucius mum, she's asked me to call her Mama, did you know – said "Mother Malfoy" made her feel old, but Mama felt so friendly, and I said, of course we shall be great friends! Presumptuous old baggage; Abraxas' brothers are still chopping shrivelfigs for the hordes in Paris – she's lucky we have her to dinner, never mind call her "friend."_

"Ow!" Lupin said, softly, but it got his attention anyway. "Camellia – stop – please –" he continued, and Severus heard a muffled sniffle. Oh, now that was far too delicious to pass up; he reached for the curtain to pull it back –

"Now, Camellia – don't – look, it's all right. I'm just a bit sore –" Lupin said, sounding slightly anxious but certainly not sniffley, and Severus dropped his hand and made a face at the curtain. "Perhaps tomorrow you can –mmmph!" That was Lupin again, and now – yes – it sounded like the foolish girl was _kissing_ him, probably quite thoroughly. Severus was suddenly deeply grateful for the curtain around his bed. If he had to look at them _and_ listen to them, he was going to spew. He sighed and went back to the letter.

_Anyway, she said she'd put you up in the Morgana Bedroom, which will be quite near Lucius and I, as well as quite close to the most precious little Potions lab I have ever seen. Abraxas Malfoy is nearly as interested in cookery as you are, and of course Papa will be along, so perhaps the three of you could have a lad's night in, hmm? I hear there will be quite a Special Guest present – Mama is all a'flutter, and Bella went right out and bought new dress robes. She claims they set off her figure but I reckon_

"Mmm. Mmmmmmm. Mmm-hmm – Camellia –" Lupin said, first pleased and then alarmed, and Severus pressed his fingers against his temples. Bloody Gryffindors, without the manners Merlin gave a goat – not even the courtesy of a Silencing Spell –

"Camellia, _stop_ ," Lupin said, perhaps a little breathless, and Severus arched his eyebrows and almost reached for the curtain again. "Look, I told you –"

"Fine," she snapped, and Severus heard the bed creak. "I brought you the newspapers, and the last of your homework." There was a pause, and some rustling, and then the crack of the Prophert being opened.

"Er, Camellia," Lupin said, sounding confused. "What – this paper –"

"Proper ladies don't read about unpleasant things," she said, and Severus didn't have to move the curtain to see her folding her hands in her lip and pressing her lips together. "Gives you wrinkles, talking about politics," she added, and Severus was sure he heard Lupin sigh. _Ladies don't discuss politics, but they **do** bring their boyfriends off in public hospital rooms_ , Severus thought, and knew _exactly_ what Narcissa would think of Camellia Butcher. Lupin's bed creaked again and then he heard the faint slap slap of cards being laid down on a stone floor, and went back to his letter.

_they just show off the fact that she's let herself go. Wait 'til you see how saggy she's got, you'll never believe she played Seeker!_

_Anyway, must dash – Lucius sends his love, of course, and thanks you for the most recent dispatch. Though he did say he did not need **quite** such a comprehensive accounting of Reg's feelings about the cookies and cakes we've sent, since that is really more my concern. He also said Reg is far too old for this sort of thing, but I do disagree. Every growing boy needs a bit of sweet, don't you think? And swat him for me if he doesn't share. _

_Fondly,_

_Narcissa_

He was in the process of re-folding the parchment when Lupin made another irritated noise.

"Camellia – the Quidditch section—" he began, and Severus heard a sigh come from the floor.

"Quidditch is so _tedious_ , Remus," she said, and Severus turned and made an unpleasant face in her direction. Silly cow would have done as well to have brought Lupin _Witch Weekly_ , as much as she had apparently mutilated the Prophet.

"But I like it," Lupin said, perhaps a little plaintive, and she sniffed at him and went back to her cards. There was a long silence, the bed creaked a few more times, and then Butcher slapped a few more cards down and made a pleased noise.

"Hmm?" Lupin said, and Severus heard the faint sound of a book closing.

"Divs homework," she said, "We spent hours at it yesterday. Freda was well pleased – she kept getting that she'd run off with Vane and have lots of money, or else with Potter, and have lots of babies. Potter's a lost cause, of course, not that Lily cares, the ungrateful creature, and Vane's with that wretched Hufflepuff just now – Brambles – but she said she won't give him up just yet."

"Mm," Lupin said, "What did you get?" He sounded like he was trying very hard to be interested.

"Oh, all over the shop," Butcher muttered, and Severus heard her nails on the floor as she gathered the cards up. He was about to open the next letter – from his mother, who always used horrible Muggle paper and _ball-point pens_ , unlike Narcissa, who preferred heavy cream vellum and iron-gall ink – when Butcher sighed.

"Right," she said, in a tone that made Severus lean forward a little. "Brown asked me if I'd have him back, and I wasn't going to, but I think I will now." Severus opened and closed his mouth; that was not what he had been expecting at all. He tucked his hair behind his ears and held still, making sure his breathing was steady and even, should either of them stop to listen.

"What?" Lupin said, and Severus heard potions vials wobbling on the bedside table.

"He came and had a picnic with me, after you got ill, because I didn't want to waste the food, you know, the elves get cross if you waste it, and we had a lovely time, and he brought me flowers, and – well, I would have said before, but –" she paused, and took another deep breath. "Well, I suppose there isn't any good time, is there?"

"But –" Lupin began, and Severus had a feeling the rest of the sentence was meant to be _you just had your hand down my trousers!_ Which was what he would have said, in Lupin's place.

"That was – well, it was meant to be a bit of a good-bye present, you know. I still could, if you like," she said, her voice turning a little hopeful, and Severus opened the curtains before it went any further. He was greeted by two surprised faces, and noticed that Lupin's spots were starting to get a bit scabby and horrible. 

"I'm going to the loo," he announced, uncurling his legs and standing up. The world a tilted a little, and then steadied. "If you do anything to my bed in my absence I shall hex you with painful boils in a delicate location."

Butcher sniffed at him and turned back to Lupin, who still had the ruined newspaper on his knees. Severus leaned over and took it anyway, and paced off with it tucked under his arm.

**

"Remus!" someone – Black – hissed, and Severus closed his Transfiguration textbook and rolled his wand into his hand. His curtain was drawn – he had left it open for a while, after he had come back from the loo and found that Butcher had (mercifully) departed, just to get some fresh air. Stephen Crabbe and Nigel Goyle had made their obligatory daily visits to assure him they were minding Reg properly, and Rabbie had stopped by with his homework and the news that Alecto Carrow had somehow or another taken up with Parkinson. After a shared shudder, Rabbie had left, and Severus had used the remaining time to catch up on some of his more tiresome homework. 

Lupin, for his part, had stayed behind his curtain for most of the afternoon, finally pulling it back when their tea arrived. Even then, he had eaten his chicken soup in silence, dipping chunks of bread in the broth and not looking up. Now it was quite late, nearly curfew, actually. So of course Black was out of his Common Room.

"Remus!" Black hissed again, and Severus heard curtain rings rattling.

"What is it, Sirius?" Lupin asked, his voice thick with – something.

"Are you all right, mate? We just heard – Pomfrey still won't let James and Peter in – I – brought you some chocolate –" Black whispered, and Severus heard the bed creak.

"Thanks. I'm – fine," Lupin said, and Severus heard crinkling and paper tearing. "She cut all the Quidditch out of the paper, Sirius," he added, and Black made a disbelieving noise. "And all of the news, as well," he added, with as little sigh.

"Well, er, you're – better off?" Black said, sounding puzzled, and there was more crinkling. "Look, mate, I'm sorry – I don't – James wants to know should he punch Brown in the face?" 

"No," Lupin said, and laughed a little. "I'll do it myself, if I feel like it later," he added, and Black grunted.

"We were with Sprout again for detention – mulching – we didn't half stink afterwards. Anyway, you should see the plant she's got stuck in the back of Greenhouse #5, it's bloody enormous, and everything around it has all gone a bit queer – wouldn't let us anywhere near it. She's even set honking daffodils as watchdogs," Black said, and Severus lay down and rolled himself up for sleep. Amycus Carrow had discovered the plant a week previously and been bitten by a geranium for his trouble, but so far none of their pet Ravenclaws had been able to work out what it was – so dunderheads like Black certainly wouldn't have done. He tucked his wand into the crook of his elbow and drifted off just as Pomfrey came by and threw Black out.

**

The next time Severus' bladder woke him it was quite late – well past midnight – and he saw Lupin's curtain was open again, though Lupin himself was apparently sleeping soundly. Severus got up and moved through the rows of beds quietly, enjoying the coolness of the stone beneath his feet and the breeze blowing in through the open windows. On his way back varied his path slightly so he passed by the beds occupied by Slytherins. They all appeared to be resting comfortably – two of the First Years were up reading comic books, though they snapped to attention fast enough when they got a good look at him – and he returned to his bed feeling vaguely content. 

He had just sat back down on his own bed when Lupin coughed and rolled over to face Severus, his over-long hair falling over his nose. Severus froze for a moment, but then Lupin coughed again, and started to snore – still sleeping, then. He rolled his wand up and down his thigh, considering his options – unprotected and unconscious, Lupin was ripe for study, and Pomfrey wasn't likely to make her rounds for an hour yet at least.

Severus closed his had around his wand and stood up, and moved to stand next to Lupin's bed. He paused for a moment, letting his pulse slow, and narrowed his eyes, searching for that tantalizing whisper of _something_ that he detected around Lupin. His grandfather had a room full of Dark objects, and he had handled small Dark creatures under Kettleburn's stumbling guidance, and whatever it was, it felt a little like that – a dull buzz at the back of his skull, a glimpse of a glimmer of silver under a thick coat of tarnish – he was about to lower his wand and use it as a dowsing rod when something warm and solid connected with his midsection and he was on the floor, with Lupin sitting on him, wand at his throat.

Severus gathered himself and prepared to flip Lupin off of him – he had been in enough corridor brawls to know how it was done – when Lupin _growled_ at him, deep in the back of his throat, and he froze. There was a brief silence, and then Lupin seemed to come awake – he blinked a couple of times, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

"Snape?" he said, leaning forward, his wand pressing lightly into the hollow of Severus' throat—just enough for Severus to feel every muscle in his body go rigid as he strained for an easy breath. Severus raised one hand to push him back, suddenly not sure if there was going to be a fight or not, and felt the wand-tip move a fraction.

"Did you – need something?" Lupin asked, cocking his head to one side. Severus could just about see the puzzled expression on his face. 

"Only for you to stop snoring – you sleep very loudly," Severus said, as scornfully as he could manage, and Lupin made an apologetic noise, but did not move. "And for you to _get off me_ , you filthy half-breed," he added, and that time he did flip Lupin onto the floor.

He rolled to his feet and moved to his own bed, half-listening to Lupin scrabbling on the floor, but he did not fall back to sleep until well after Pomfrey had come by and dosed them both.


	18. Negotiations are On-Going

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 21: Photograph of a motorcycle

"You sure you're all right, mate?" James asked, looking up from the grimoire he was holding, and searching Remus' face again for any sign of distress. But there was nothing there save a mildly puzzled frown, and that was directed at the book in front of him. Even after four years, it was hard for him to tell when Remus was upset, unless Remus chose to show him.

"'M fine," Remus said, tucking his hair behind his ears. "Wasn't going to work anyway," he added, flipping a page over and sucking his lower lip into his mouth.

"I should think not," James muttered, "Quidditch – tedious – the very idea – honestly," Remus glanced up briefly then, his mouth curving in a faint smile that did not reach his eyes. "Sorry," James said, quietly, because he felt like he should. 

Here in the back of the Library, with the sun shining in the windows, full of hot dinner and up to their ears in grotty old books, it was easy enough to pretend that Remus was – normal – but – but he wasn't. There were times when James felt like really nothing in his life was quite normal – his parents were (roughly 150 years) older than anyone else's; his best mate ( _blood brother_ ) came from a family that represented everything he hated, and he had another mate who was a _werewolf_. 

A werewolf who liked pranks, Quidditch, chocolate and pretty brown-haired English girls, and who nearly chewed himself apart every month, and there was nothing they could do about it. At times like this, James wished he could lean over and _tell him_ , say _we're almost there, just hold on_ , but he and Sirius and Peter had all sworn themselves to secrecy, just in case it didn't work. In case they failed like every other cure Remus had tried.

"Has he said anything, then?" Remus said, turning another page. 

"Who—oh. No – not – exactly. He had another funny turn while you were ill, though," James said, shifting position, as Remus' head came up. "While we were hiding from Filch – and then Rosier – in the cupboard. It wasn't like the first one, exactly, he just – I don't know – " James sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. "And then we went to the kitchen afterwards and one of the elves spoke to him and – I didn't see it – Peter said he went all pale. And he wouldn't take any food from them. Said he wasn't hungry."

"Hmm," Remus said, closing the book and drawing his knees up. The thin band of yellow at the outer edge of his irises expanded and contracted briefly. "Don't like it, James," he said, and James pressed his fingertips into the ridges of his eyes and nodded in agreement.

"Wrote to mum," he said, after a minute, dropping his hands into his lap, "asked if – we could keep him for the whole summer, this time, instead of just a week or two – take him home right from the train, even. That was before he said anything about the trip with his mum, though."

"And?" Remus asked, stretching his legs out again and opening the book.

"Negotiations are on-going," James said, smiling faintly. "She said something about Ministry teas and back-channels, in her letter – I expect that means Dad is going to go stalking around the Ministry in his medals having very pointed conversations with Mr. Black until she gets her way."

Remus lips twitched twice and then he smiled, and this time it did go all the way to his eyes, and James felt a little better. 

"Did you tell him yet?" Remus asked, and James shook his head.

"Waiting for the word from mum," James said, and Remus nodded. "Don't want to get his hopes up," James added, very softly, and Remus grunted in agreement.

"Outside," Remus said, after a minute, snapping his book shut and rolling to his feet.

"What, now?" James asked, putting his arms up to defend himself against the stacks of books floating above and around his head on their way back to the shelves.

"Yes, now, James, come on, up!" Remus said, floating the book off his lap with one hand and grabbing him with the other and yanking him to his feet, before disappearing down a range and leaving James to jog after him.

**

"You've missed one – over there –" Peter said, gesturing with his wand, and Sirius dropped to a crouch, squinting in the dimness of the greenhouse, looking for the shimmer of insect wings. Remus had had them collecting for two days now; there was a teacup in the dorms full of dead bugs and none of them were quite sure what it was all about. 

"You would think Sprout would have run out of things for us to weed, mulch or prune by now," James said from the other side of the row, and Sirius heard Remus snort, further down the same row. 

"At least it isn't the stables, or the bloody dungeons," Peter said, tucking his wand up his sleeve, and bending over a flat of phlox, pushing the leaves aside to search for insurgents.

There was a long silence, broken only by James' muffled cursing and Peter's occasional gleeful noise as he removed another weed. Sirius dropped two lightly fried bugs into the pocket of his robes and stood up.

"Sirius," Peter said, moving on to a flat of lilacs, "what's this about you and Romania?"

"Well, you know the old saying, Peter – Marry your daughters for money and your sons for power," Sirius said, absently. "And marry disobedient children for anything you can. The bloodline must continue, n'that." He bent slightly and cast a faint Lumos before lifting a flat of plants, to check for the presence of deceased winged insects. He half-wondered if Remus was planning to feed them to Butcher, or perhaps to Brown; he could think of at least two potions that would make good use of them. 

He glanced up at Remus briefly, and a memory of a mouth sucking on his fingers surged forward, and Sirius felt his face flush and his stomach roll over. _He was **ill** – he was ill, and hungry, and he couldn't feed himself, and this has got to **stop**_ , he thought, and carefully replaced the flat. 

"But there's a _war_ on," James said, sounding offended. "I mean – you'll be needed here, you _are_ needed here, they can't just –"

"—marry me to a Romanian heiress and have her lock me up in her castle?" Sirius said, stepping around Peter and lifting the next flat. On the other side of the table, Remus was frowning at a small pot of pink roses, which seemed to have offended him by not blooming.

"Vampires there," Remus said, absently, cupping his hand around the pot of roses and leaning forward to kiss the buds, of all things. Sirius wondered if his mouth had dropped open. Remus looked up at him, one eyebrow arched, and Sirius looked away quickly. 

"Werewolves, also," Peter said, "and dragons. You like dragons, Sirius. Ask your mum to find you an heiress with a dragon preserve. That'd be cracking great fun, actually," he added, and James threw a bunch of weeds at him.

"Oh, fuck off, Potter, it would be fun. And we'd help you escape, if you didn't like it," Peter continued, and James made a noise of agreement. "And she could come along if you liked her," he added. "Although it might be awkward if she didn't get on with the others."

"Others?" James said, "what, he'll have a gang of escaped Romanian heiresses running about?" He ran a gloved hand through his hair, leaving trail of mulch and petals in its wake. Sirius lifted a second flat and retrieved two small black bodies, trying not to think about Romanian castles.

"No, James, you pillock, the rest of our girls," Peter said, patting a lilac as if it were an obedient puppy. "Evans will come 'round sooner or later, and she's friendly with most people, and Remus –"

"—is going to have a lot of cats," Remus cut in, smiling faintly, and setting the plants down. Sirius leaned forward to get a better look, but the rosebuds didn't seem to have changed.

"That's Squibs, Remus, and witches," James said, sounding horrified, and Remus rolled his eyes. 

Peter was opening his mouth to say something else when the door popped open and Sprout arrived to shoo them back to the castle.

**

_April 18, 1975_

_Dear Puppy,_

_In the spirit of fair warning: am bringing Husband and Baby to the Quidditch tomorrow. As you know, Husband is a Ravenclaw, and feels he should be there to Support The Side in a Time of Strife, as he put it. (I suspect he has hopes of an Old Boy game if enough alums turn up. He's been oiling his gloves in a very suspect manner.) He was very amused by your account of battling Ravenclaws, and claims that there was never that sort of carry-on when he was there. Not at breakfast, anyway, though he did suggest that there may have been some irregularities with a mysterious substance called Jell-O and the prefects bathroom late on winter evenings._

_In other news, Everose and Sugalump are still here; Baby and Husband have gained at least a stone and a half between them, and it is all from cake. Also, I have done the proper adult thing and written the Headmaster for permission to take you lot out for tea, so pls. advise Sparkles that there's a free dinner in Hogsmeade on offer if he can ditch his minders for a few hours with his disreputable cousin and a bunch of Gryffindors who will be on their absolute best behavior._

_Love,_

_Andromeda_

_p.s. For security reasons, Baby and I will be Apparating, Husband will be arriving via Muggle transportation – something called a motorcycle. It's very shiny and quite loud, but he's terribly fond of it._


	19. Home Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 22: Poem: Home thoughts, from Abroad, by Robert Browning 
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Ravenclaw Quidditch players are quoting from the prompt, as well as "I Said" by Tom Leonard, "Perlun" by Mina Loy, "Huntress" by HD and "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe.

"O, to be in England, now that April's there – see some morning, **unaware** ," Ted shouted, and fired the Quaffle through the uprights, past the spluttering Keeper, and Remus heard cheering behind him.

"I _said_ , I'm fed up with funny things," one of the Beaters hollered, turning his broom and tracing a neat figure eight before extending his bat and sending a Bludger flying away towards the stands.

"The whipper-snapper child of the sun – the pert blonde spirit scoured by the Scandinavian Boreas!" The Seeker cried, whipping by the stands, opening his hand just enough to reveal the fluttering Snitch, and the crowd roared with approval.

"Come, blunt your spear with us, our pace is hot," shouted a different Beater, dropping down in a streak of faded blue robes and thick gray hair to where James, Peter, and Sirius were standing, heads craned back, the late afternoon breeze making their school robes billow. They looked at each other, briefly, and then before they could do anything but get their wand-hands in the air, Andromeda was on her feet, Dora balanced on one hip, waving at her husband.

"Quoth the Raven, NEVERMORE!" he shouted, and the other players laughed and booed and waved him off. Andromeda smiled broadly and flipped the hood of her cloak over her head with her free hand, readjusted the child on her hip. Dora, who had insisted on turning her hair blue for the afternoon, nestled closer against her mother and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

"Oh, Dora, and you with no nap," Andromeda murmured, patting her back. "Have we got everything, Remus?" she asked, and he looked around. The stands were empty, save for the last slightly sunburned stragglers. He shook his head, and then they waited as a pair of elderly witches picked their way down the risers, the gentians in their hats wobbling in the wind, their wrinkled cheeks pink from sun and exertion. Remus turned and watched Sirius, James and Peter go running after Ted, who was wheeling his motorcycle out from behind the broom shed and pushing the kickstand down. Sirius got to it first; he was in the act of swinging his leg over when Andromeda spoke.

"Hmm?" Remus said, aware he was blushing, but not quite sure why. 

"I said, what is it, Remus?" she said, the edges of her mouth – so like Sirius' – twitching upwards. "You've been stewing over there for the last hour – out with it, young man, or I'll dispatch the Goblin inquisition squad," she said, her smile broadening.

"Something – we don't know – Sirius has been a bit off – had a couple of funny turns," he said, looking away from her. He, James and Peter had discussed it, while Sirius was in the shower, and James had insisted, claiming it wasn't as bad as telling Pomfrey, or ratting him out to McGonagall. Andromeda was a good sort, Peter had pointed out, and a mum, and anyway he'd like to be able to go on kitchen raids without Sirius putting the elves off their feed, as it were. Somehow Andromeda being a mum had been the point that carried the day, and Remus had found himself deputized to deliver the report.

"How do you mean, funny turns?" she said, the smile vanishing and her eyes narrowing as they made their way down to the pitch. He saw her shake her wand out and heard her cast a Feather-light spell on Dora.

"He goes a bit pale and huffy, mostly, and seems a little dizzy. And Peter says when he goes on kitchen raids he won't take food from the elves – claims he isn't hungry. He hasn't got a fever, or anything, I checked, and he's been to see Pomfrey for other things and she didn't find anything – or at least he didn't say – " Remus said and Andromeda made an understanding noise.

"What is it that sets him off, do you know?" she asked, as they reached the gound, smoothing her robes down with her free hand.

"Soup," Remus said, "being in cupboards, and house-elves," Remus said. Andromeda frowned faintly, and turned to look out over the Quidditch pitch. Remus had the distinct impression she was looking at the Slytherin stands, as if the answer might lie there. After a minute she stepped onto the pitch and set off for Ted and the others at a swift pace.

"How often do you lot find yourselves in cupboards?" she asked, and then waved his answer away with a low chuckle. "How long has this been going on?" she continued, as they came up on broom shed.

"Since after Term Break," he said, feeling the weight in his stomach lighten a little at the fierce expression on her face.

"I acquired two House Elves at about that time – ones I grew up with, haven't seen them since I died," she said, and Remus blinked at her, making a mental note to ask Sirius about that one later. "Once they stopped wailing, ironing their hands and trying to kill themselves with the range and the steam-iron, we both tried to find out what happened – Ted used investigative journalist technique he knows, and he had a lawyer mate of his come in as well, but Everose just flapped her ears and asked if he'd like some more cake, and would that be chocolate or strawberry, Master Johannes?" 

"Mm," Remus said, and Andromeda sighed. Remus could hear Peter asking Ted questions about engine maintenance.

"There were a few rumors floating around – that Easter dinner had been somewhat _unusual_ , was the general idea, and that Sirius had done something disgraceful, but really, poor love, they say that when he wears the wrong sort of robe to tea – velvet when they wanted the silk, don’t you know – " Andromeda said, "and – well – other things. My goddamned mother –," she contined, and then stopped abruptly, pressing her lips firmly together and turned away from him. He could see her hugging Dora tight against her chest – tight enough to make her to wake up with an offended squeak and start sniffling. 

"Shh, Dora, Mummy's sorry, she didn't mean to wake you – I'm sorry, Remus," Andromeda said, turning back and taking a deep breath, and Remus gave her a little smile, hoping that was an appropriate response.

"Thank you for looking after him," she said, quietly, and that time Remus looked away. By some horrible accident his gaze lighted on Sirius, still perched on the motorcycle, limned by the setting sun, looking happier than he had in weeks, and Remus thought he might never breathe again. Then James called out for him to come look, come look, and Andromeda gave him a little push, breaking the spell.

**

"Rosemerta!" Ted called, "a round of butter beers over here, please! And perhaps a dash of firewhiskey for myself and the lady wife," he added, giving Andromeda a broad wink. _Good_ , she thought, nodding at Rosmerta in confirmation. She had had time between settling Dora with Madame Pomfrey and collecting the boys at the front gate to have a quick word with Ted – not the whole story, just enough to say _trust me_. Around the table, four heads, two dark, two fair, bent over the menu. She could hear them muttering to each other, something about _chicken pie for lunch_. 

She flipped her own menu up and pretended to read it, while squinting at her cousin over the rumpled brown edge. He had certainly seemed healthy enough when they arrived that morning, but now that Lupin had mentioned it – something in his eyes – and perhaps a bit about the shoulders – she could see it, a faint tension. She was halfway through the soup choices, weighing the wisdom of going straight for the kill versus a more nuanced approach – _we don't have time_ – when the she felt a weight on her feet and two fingers around one of her ankles, pressing out in code she had almost forgotten _under the table don't kick_.

"I think I'll have a steak," Ted announced, "what about you, gentlemen?" There was a general murmur of _chicken fish pie spotted dick_ around the table, and her ankle received an order for a cup of potato leek soup. She opened her napkin and made a bit of a fuss about settling on her lap, flipping the tablecloth up just enough to catch a glimpse of red-gold hair. _Take that, Auntie Walburga_ , she thought, and dropped one hand in her lap. After a minute the pressure on her ankle eased and five lightly calloused fingers wrapped around hers, pressing out a formal greeting. _Hi Sparkles_ , she replied, and felt a fist bounce off her toes.

While they were waiting for the food to arrive, Ted led a discussion of Quidditch moves, and she caught up on six months worth of House gossip, while nodding and smiling and arching her eyebrows at the appropriate times. Not for the first time, Andromeda was glad Bella had played Seeker and was prone to such discussions herself. Sparkles was in the middle of detailed anecdote involving Slughorn and Rosier when the food arrived, and Rosmerta put the cup of soup down next to Puppy. _Hold that thought_ , she told the one under the table, and felt a shoulder press against her knee. 

"Oh, Sirius, is that my soup? I had pumpkin, I think," she said, and he picked it up and smelled it. She was mildly surprised when his pupils ballooned outwards and his free hand started to shake. _Bit of a funny turn, indeed_ , she thought, noticing Lupin's tense expression out of the corner of her eye, and Potter's pursed lips. _Sorry, boys_ , she thought, and then it was gone, as if it had never been, and he passed her the cup with a comment about the kitchen must have made a mistake, did she want to send it back?

"No, it's all right, soup is soup," she said, and when Ted distracted them with motorbike racing, she slid the cup under the table. There was a long pause, and then the fingers were back, the anecdote about Slughorn apparently forgotten. _Want to see the baby_ , he said, and she felt her heart clench a little. That had been Puppy's first request, too – in three years neither of them had met her daughter, and would never meet her, if either set of parents had their way. Dora would be punished for her mother's transgressions with growing up cousin-less, and that, among all things, filled Andromeda with rage – at her mother, at her aunt, at the "Dark Lord", at over-bred morons who guarded their magical bloodlines and watched them thin, and killed anyone who disagreed with them. _Fuck you very **much** , Mother_, she thought, and slid a her other hand under to smooth Sparkles' hair. 

She glanced at Ted – big, brash, loud, horribly messy, beautiful, Muggle-born Ted – who had never seen a House-Elf before he came to Hogwarts, still carried Biros in the pockets of his robes, drove a silver machine that rattled her inside out, and had insisted on a proper Registry Office wedding but only _after_ he knelt next to her at Greta Green and said the old wizarding oath in a clear firm voice – who had given her the metamorphagus child that had made Puppy squeal with glee when she changed her nose to an owl beak. Ted who had agreed to brave her family's wrath, and then to follow her into quasi-exile, and now, well –

 _Pomfrey_ , she said, pressing firmly, _give me an hour_. 

"Andromeda," Ted said, "I've been informed our dinner guests are expected at Hagrid's hut by 8 PM sharpish."

"What've you done?" she asked, and the fingers landed on her knee long enough to say _frogspawn up a tree!_ , which was just tantalizing enough for her to over-ride the guilty shifting and muttering and demand a full explanation from the parties remaining above the table.

"Well," she said, when Puppy had finished explaining about indignities of pine needles, and she was reasonably sure Sparkles had either made his escape or burrowed further under cover, "we wouldn't want to make you late, would we? Come on then, we'll walk you back up the road."

Once outside, she motioned for Ted to draw the others off, and grabbed hold of Puppy's wrist, so he was forced to walk next to her, at a slightly slower pace than his mates. Lupin looked back once, and she gave him a faint nod, which seemed to satisfy him. At any rate he prodded Potter along, and Pettigrew.

"Hmm?" Puppy said, and then she saw faint tremor in his lip, and felt the tension in his body, and surprised even herself when instinct overcame years of decorum and an hour's worth off careful planning, and she pulled him close, squeezing him tight and rubbing his back. 

"What happened?" she whispered, wishing she had _more time, more time_ , and listening in growing horror as he told her, his voice a little muffled by her cloak – his nursery elf, for fuck's sake, and then a full day in solitary in the dungeons for back-talk. She'd have to push Sparkles for the rest of the story – clearly there was one. 

"Hate those people," he said, after a while, and she sighed, letting him go. "Sorry, I know – it's your mum," he added, ducking his head.

"'s all right, love, I hate them, too," she said, "I thought Mum might come around after Dora, on the quiet, like – you know how she is about babies – but –" she trailed off, and her heart clenched again. Her daughter would never know her grandfather, either, or sit with him as he cut potions ingredients, or walk with him through a quiet wood, holding his cuttings bag. Her gandmother would never comb her hair, or let her play dress-up with the old things in the attic, roaring with laughter at the swirl of outdated gowns in enchanted mirrors.

She felt his warm hands on her face, and swallowed hard. This was so _undignified_. And they had to hurry, or Ted would come back, looking for them.

"Sorry, love," she said, moving his hands, "I don't have much time, and here I spend it being maudlin. I—we're going away – don't know if you read the papers –"

"Remus does," he said, quietly, starting to walk, and she chuckled. "They're going after Muggle-borns," he added, and she squeezed his hand in the darkness.

"And blood-traitors," she said, and he sighed. "If it was only Ted and I, well, we'd stay – hell, Ted would be joining the Prewitts in the War Wing, but –"

"Dora," he said, and she pressed her free hand to her eyes.

"Yes, Dora," she said, "Ted has friends – Muggle war correspondents, mostly – in – useful locations. We'll be all right, and we can still help out as much as we can. And – if you need me, Puppy, or if Sparkles does, just send an owl. I'll –" she began, and had to stop. _Merlin, what is the matter with me?_ she thought, as the bright lights of Hogwarts hove into view. Ted was standing with the others outside the gate, but she could see from the set of his shoulders he was growing anxious, waiting for her.

"Don't," he said, "don't. I – we'll be fine," he added, and hugged her hard. "You go onto – wherever it is – don't worry about me."

"I will anyway, you know," summoning a smile. "Your friends are worried about you, too, Puppy," she added, and he sighed. She squeezed his hand and then let him go, as Lupin peeled off from the rest of the group and walked towards them.


	20. Best Laid Plans . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 23
> 
> "Spring is the time of plans and projects. And, as he came out into the farmyard, Levin, like a tree in spring that knows not what form will be taken by the young shoots and twigs imprisoned in its swelling buds, hardly knew what undertakings he was going to begin upon now in the farm-work that was so dear to him. But he felt that he was full of the most splendid plans and projects. First of all he went to the cattle. The cows had been let out into their paddock, and their smooth sides were already shining with their new, sleek, spring coats; they basked in the sunshine and lowed to go to the meadow. Levin gazed admiringly at the cows he knew so intimately to the minutest detail of their condition, and gave orders for them to be driven out into the meadow, and the calves to be let into the paddock. The herdsman ran gaily to get ready for the meadow. The cowherd girls, picking up their petticoats, ran splashing through the mud with bare legs, still white, not yet brown from the sun, waving brushwood in their hands, chasing the calves that frolicked in the mirth of spring."
> 
> \--LEV TOLSTOY, Anna Karenin Part II, Chapter XIII
> 
> WARNINGS: Vague descriptions of wanking. No tails, though, this time.

"Two wasps, a cricket, three ladybirds and a grasshopper – well _done_ , Peter," Remus said, dropping the latest arrivals into the tea cup and surveying his bed. There was several small piles of bugs arranged in a tidy row. He had left the cockroaches until last, and slid a piece of parchment underneath them. There were some things even _Scourgify_ wouldn't wash away.

"Moony," Sirius said, sitting down on his bed, "what in Merlin's name _are_ you doing?" Peter sat down next to him, and then James wandered over, toothbrush in hand, and leaned against Sirius' bedpost.

"Thinking," Remus said, "don't know if it'll work, though. Page 812," he added, gesturing at a slim, leather bound book resting on his pillow. Peter waved his wand and the book floated up and over; Sirius caught it before it fell, and Remus added edged the pile of black beetles over with his wand and started a pile of dragonflies.

"Oh right," James murmured, "we looked at this before – oh, I see, you want to –"

"Yes," Remus said, and Sirius made a contemplative noise.

"But we'll need fluxweed," Peter said, "and we can't go picking _that_ off the ground, can we?"

"I've got enough for our purposes," Remus said, straightening up and smiling into three astonished faces. 

"How –?" James began, and Sirius' expression changed from shocked to suspicious to amused at the speed of mayfly skimming over water. He had been oddly quiet since the walk back from Hogsmeade; even their final detention spent mucking out Thestral stalls had not provoked more than mild grumbling and token cursing. But his expression was more pensive than haunted, and Remus reckoned that would have to do.

"Remus is crap at potions," Sirius said, "in fact, I reckon he always has ingredients left over."

"Yeah," Peter said, still a little suspicious, and then James started laughing.

"What – oh. What's the catch?" Peter asked, his eyes narrowing, as James trailed off into a mostly dignified silence.

"Bags on the ladybirds," Sirius said, and Peter groaned.

"No," Remus said, extracting a bumblebee from a tangle of wasps, "it has to be random."

"No roaches," James said, thoughtfully, and Peter shuddered as Remus banished them and the parchment they were resting on.

"Good point, Potter," Sirius said, and moved to help Remus sort the bugs, as James continued on to the loo and Peter retired to his bed, comic book in hand.

**

"Sirius! Get up!" James hissed, somewhere near his ear. Sirius made an unhappy noise and burrowed deeper into his blankets, waving his hand in a way he hoped conveyed the idea of _too early_. He and Remus had been up late with the bugs, sorting them into little piles and then shuffling the piles into carefully folded and labeled envelopes, and then he had sat up even later, reading a battered Muggle novel Remus kept in the bottom of his trunk for sleepless nights. It was meant to be terribly romantic but mostly it just made him dizzy.

He heard James muttering at Peter, and then the door slammed behind them. Sirius pulled his knees up and tried to go back to sleep, with no luck. After a while he got up and went to the loo, past Remus' empty bed, still half-asleep; he held on to the towel rack with one hand so he didn't fall over the cistern. He smiled faintly when a gentle breeze blew over him, tickling the hair on his legs and between his thighs, and felt warmth growing in his belly. 

Back in bed, he arranged his pillows and blankets to make a little nest, and wriggled inside. He lay still for a moment, warm and content, and then slid a hand down and under the edge of his bunched up nightshirt and petted himself gently until he was half-hard. _Mmm_ , he thought, and nuzzled the nearest pillow. He stroked himself slowly, letting his mind drift, thinking about cool, rough hands ( _Remus' hands_ ) moving over too-sensitive skin, perhaps rubbing his belly, _mmm_ , and a mouth on his, warm and soft, nibbling on his lip, and maybe a tongue, _yes_ , right there behind his ear, and a little bit of pressure, yes, just _there, mm,_ until his hips bucked, once, and he relaxed against the pillows, drowsy and sated. 

He lay there for a while, wandering between sleep and wakefulness, listening to the birds sing, until he felt the bed dip, and sensed a warm presence above him, signaled by a faint pressure on his hip, a puff of minty air gusting by his nose, and something soft – a mouth? – drifting from his ear to his collarbone. The idea of a mouth was intriguing; he turned his head towards it and opened his eyes a fraction. It was Remus, kneeling over him, one hand on either side of his head, hair gleaming in the sunlight, the yellow band around his irises at half-mast. Normally that meant he was very angry, but right now he seemed – happy? He looked sort of dreamy, and not in what Peter called a mopey-Moony sort of way.

"Hello," Sirius said, and he was about to reach up and – do what, he wasn't quite sure – when consciousness came crashing back, alerting him to the facts that his hands were dirty and (oh Merlin) he had just _wanked_ to _Remus_.

"Er, hello," Remus said, sitting up abruptly. Sirius wondered if he could – smell – what had been going on, and felt a brief spike of shame. Not that he'd know _all_ of it, but it made him feel a little dirty just the same. Wanking to mates – especially _male_ mates – was just _not on_. It was worse than wanking to female mates, worse even than trying to wank to Lily and being unable to look her or James in the eye for days afterwards. What was _wrong_ with him?

"Up, lazybones," Remus said, resting a hand on his hip and shaking him gently. Sirius tried very hard not to notice that the touch made his cock fill a little, and grunted in a questioning manner.

"Found something, want to show you," Remus said, shaking him again, "come on, up. Out of the bed and into the shower," he continued, grinning broadly. "I'll give you half an hour -- be waiting downstairs – got food, don't worry," he added, and Sirius nodded weakly, waiting until the door clicked shut behind him to clean himself and the covers and walk gingerly towards the shower, and his second and far less satisfactory wank of the day.

**

Forty-five minutes later, they were creeping slowly down a dungeon corridor beneath James' cloak, Sirius eating a cheese toastie under a Silencing spell, Remus counting under his breath, until they came to a bare bit of wall. Sirius almost choked on his toastie when Remus reached out and tapped a center brick three times and a chunk of wall swung back like a door. He still felt horribly awkward, as if _I wanked to you_ was written in fiery letters above his head, and Remus was very politely not noticing.

"I don't think there's anything nasty in here," Remus whispered, moving forward, "I did a quick check before I came and got you."

Sirius shrugged out from under the cloak and looked around. The room was dusty, as if it hadn't been used in a long time. There was green baize carpet on the floor, and round wooden tables scattered through the room. Some of them seemed to be upholstered in leather, and odd designs sketched on the top. One of the walls were lined with low tables, each supporting what appeared to be Pensieves, and another wall displayed an enormous mural depicting a wizard in white robes, arms raised, small, ugly figures approaching, spears pulled back and murder in their eyes. He turned back to look at Remus, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, he was so excited. 

"Bit like Blackpool," Sirius said, leaning in to peer at one of the tables, and Remus made a questioning noise. "Auntie Dorea inherited the house there, in the Wizarding section. She used to take Reg and I down to the Pier to see their mural of cousin Harfang – that's him, over there, about to get eaten by ice demons – she used to describe the whole thing right down to "—and then they tore him limb from limb and thew his bones into the pit of Eternal Zephyrs, where his spirit still shrieks", each and every time. Reg had nightmares for weeks," he added, and Remus shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead.

"Blacks, we do get everywhere," Sirius said, and Remus laughed. 

"They had games, though," Sirius continued, "after she'd finished scaring the piss out of Reg, she used to stuff us full of ice cream and spend the afternoon losing money at the bridge tables, while we played speed chess and snuck peeks at the adult Pensieves with other snotty little Purebloods who were vacationing with elderly relatives while their parents drank themselves silly in Corfu."

"Adult Pensieves?" Remus said, sounding baffled, and Sirius chuckled. 

"You know those dirty Muggle pictures you told us about?" he asked, and Remus nodded, flushing pink. 

"Kind of the same thing, only – more real. They were full of memories of – well, you know," he said, and Remus' eyes widened. "People could pay a sickle a go and – and – the floor was really sticky, it was –" _kind of disgusting and kind of interesting_ , he thought, watching Remus' face. 

"Eww," Remus said, with feeling, though Sirius noticed he was looking at the wall of Pensieves with an interested gleam in his eye.

"They had them for kids, too, with – other things, but they were dead boring, of course," Sirius continued. "And there were other sorts of games – Divination and other nonsense, mostly, though Reg and I did get really good at bat-a-niffler, the last summer we were there."

"Mmm-hmm," Remus said, and set off towards the back of the room. Sirius followed him, tracing patterens in the dust on the tables. One of the tables had small statues on it, carved to look like card players. He stopped and picked one of them up turning it over in his hands, humming softly to himself. It was carved to resemble a sharp-featured man in evening dress, a formal wizards hat on his head. 

"These ought to move," he said, and Remus stopped and turned around. "Sometimes they talk, too," he added, shaking his wand out of his sleeve.

"Sirius, don't –" Remus began, but he had already tapped the figure on the head once, though nothing happened. He picked it up, and squinted at it, trying to remember the spell – Dorea had said it often enough; he tried to remember being seven, standing next to her impressive bulk in the cool dimness of the Pier, listening to the words, what were the _words?_ – when the figurine emitted a burst of yellow light.

" – do that," Remus continued, with a sigh, as Sirius squinched his eyes shut and made pained noises. 

"Bugger. Are you okay?" he asked. Sirius felt cool, rough fingers on his face and jerked away. 

"'m fine," Sirius said, rubbing at his eyes, and giving Remus an apologetic look. 

"Enchantment is probably going wonky – who knows how long it's been in here, anyway. Come on, let's go see what's in the Pensieves," he added, with a final shake of his head.


	21. Pensieve Adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 24: Song: Pollen, by mirah
> 
> WARNINGS: A little bit of mildly suggestive voyeurism

"Willow, oak, yew, beech, ash, cherry – is that vine wood, over there?" Remus said, squinting, and Sirius walked over to check.

"Seems to be," he said, brushing the dust off the rim of the Pensieve and running his fingers over the patterns around the broad oval. "Wand wood," he added, feeling it was relevant. The mural of cousin Harfang was frankly starting to make his shoulders itch – Reg hadn't been the only one with nightmares after the hundreth retelling of the story – and he could feel a headache starting behind his eyes. Mainly he wanted out of the dungeons, which were wet and cold and smelled musty, and to go back to his nice warm bed in the Tower. But he didn't want to leave Remus on his own, either, deep in Slytherin territory, and there was the possibility the room might not be there if they came back later. _Lazy_ , he scolded himself, and rubbed at his eyes.

"Hmm. Is there anything in them?" Remus asked, bending to peer over first one, brown hair swinging forward, his slender fingers curving around the rim. Sirius moved to stand next to him, angling himself to that they were hip to hip. Remus was reassuringly warm and solid and smelled of James' aftershave, and that made him feel a little better. 

"Go on, then," he said, Remus brushed lingering cobwebs away to reveal thin, silvery strands of memory swirling in the depths, and they both whistled softly.

"Odd, that they left it – them – here," Sirius muttered, the first twinge of alarm making itself known in his stomach. "Not like a Slytherin, to leave a memory laying around."

"Perhaps the cholera came and stole them all away," Remus murmured, and wrapped one hand around his wrist, and then they were falling –

-into Westminster Abbey, and Remus was whooping in surprise, as his robes billowed out around him, until they landed neatly in the only two empty places in a pew full of people. The pews were draped in green and silver cloth, and there were several different kinds of flowers tied to the lamps. The lady – girl, actually, she didn't look much older than he was –next to Sirius had jet black hair and was wearing a small green hat that featured a truly enormous ostrich feather, and was wearing bottle-green robes cut in an odd, old-fashioned style, so that they seemed to nip in around her hips. She lifted her hand to adjust her hat and he realized with a jolt that, going by the soft swell of her stomach, she was pregnant.

"Ow," Remus said, but without any real force, and the lady next to Sirius turned to look at them. 

"Granny Irma?" he said, and looked at her stomach. _Mum_ , he thought, _Uncle Alphard, or Uncle Cygnus?_ He glanced back to her face; unlike her Crabbe grandsons, the plumpness in her face made her look happy and cheerful. She was smiling faintly, and her eyes were fixed on the aisle.

"You know these people?" Remus whispered, sounding amused, and Sirius felt a warmth at his back as a pointy chin settled on his shoulder. "Who's that, then?"

"Granny Irma," he said, and Remus made an inquisitive noise."Mum's mum – that might _be_ Mum, there, actually," he added, gesturing at her stomach, and felt Remus edge closer for a better look, which made his cock stir a little. Why did Remus have to pick _today_ to be snuggly? "She went 'round the twist when I was ten – Grandpapa Pollux tried to keep her at home but he couldn't get anyone to mind her for longer than a week. She's at St. Mungo's, now," he added, and Remus grunted and sat back.

"Who's on the other side of me?" Remus whispered, and Sirius turned around and leaned forward. There were several men in formal dress robes and numerous women and girls in robes similar to Granny Irma's. 

"Great-Auntie Cassiopeia," he said, after a while, "and that's Great-Auntie Dorea on her lap, actually. Must be a family event – wedding, probably, since they look happy," he added, and Remus made a noise of agreement. The sat in silence for a while, Sirius fighting the urge to reach out and touch his grandmother's stomach to see if his mother (or uncles) would kick him. 

"This is _boring_ ," Remus hissed, "let's go." 

"All right," Sirius murmured, and they stood up and jumped, sailing upwards just as the massive organ began to play –

and landed on their hands and knees on green baize carpet. The flickering candles had burned down a bit, and he heard Remus refresh the charms before he stood up first and brushed himself off, humming quietly.

"Why would anyone put _that_ in a public Pensieve?" he asked, moving to stand near the next Pensieve, and brushing away a second set of cobwebs.

"Royal wedding, don't you know," Sirius said, getting to his feet as Remus rolled his eyes, and then they were falling again, past rocky cliffs, onto –

-equally rocky ground. Sirius was picking himself up when Remus screamed a warning and knocked him down, rolling them both out of the way of a burst of – Sirius looked up – dragon flame. An enraged Hungarian Horntail was standing quite nearby, it's massive tail swishing back and forth over the dirt, sending spiky pebbles flying everywhere. He looked the other way and saw three wizards, arms upraised, wands at the ready, and then Remus grabbed him around the waist, dragged him upright and –

-they were back on their hands and knees on the carpet, Remus still holding on to him, both of them breathing hard. _Mmm_ , Sirius thought, and dropped his aching head onto Remus' shoulder for a minute, before rolling onto the floor. 

"All right, Sirius?" Remus said, and Sirius felt cool, rough fingers flicker over his face. He grunted in response, and rubbed at his eyes again.

"Tired," he said, and flipped over onto his right side, facing Remus. "Don't feel well," he added, which was true, he felt cold and clammy, and shaken around, and he wanted to go back to the Tower and sleep for a million years, preferably with Remus' arms around him. He pressed the heel of his hand to the bridge of his nose and sighed. _Crazy_ , he thought, _barmy, around the twist, several sickles short of a galleon._

"Have some chocolate," Remus said, making a faint clucking noise, and Sirius heard crinkling and paper tearing, and then felt a square of chocolate being pressed against his mouth. He ate it, and the next several that came along, chewing slowly, and after a while he did feel better.

"More?" Remus asked, when he had swallowed the last square, and Sirius shook his head. Mostly he wanted a drink, to wash the sticky-sweet chocolate out of his mouth. "Pensieves, I mean," Remus added, and Sirius frowned, thinking about it. 

"All right," he said, and pushed himself upwards. "Two more, and then we'll save the rest for James and Peter," he added, as Remus grabbed hold of his wrist with a broad smile.

**

"Where the hell have you lot been?" James asked, folding the Cloak and stuffing it in his trunk. Remus sat on his bed and swung his legs back and forth, rubbing at phantom pollen on his nose. He had spent a certain amount of time smelling tovage and queen flowers while Sirius occupied himself with an assortment of toads and lizards.

"Amazonian rain-forest," Remus said, and Peter goggled at him. "We also went to Hungary and almost got eaten by a dragon, a Black family wedding and – well –" he paused, blushing, and James arched one dark eyebrow.

"Inside the greenhouses, with – well, we really couldn't tell," Sirius added, stretching out on his bed, and James rounded on him.

"You – what?" he roared, and Remus saw Sirius wince out of the corner of his eye, and felt a sharp pang of guilt. The chocolate had revived him enough for two more Pensieve trips, but he was starting to look a little rough around the edges, and had only picked at his dinner. 

"I found a secret room, James, you wanker," Remus said, "and it's full of Pensieves."

"Like Blackpool," Sirius cut in, propping himself up against his pillows, "and there's a Harfang and the ice demons mural and gaming tables and those odd little figurines, the ones that talk, you remember –"

"We went to Brighton," James said, but the anger had gone out of his voice. "Inside the greenhouses with mystery girl doing what, exactly?" he asked, turning to Remus.

"Was she naked?" Peter asked, leaning forward, and Sirius snorted.

"Um," Remus said, and felt himself flush. They really _hadn't_ been able to tell who it was; they had only seen a lone dark-haired figure standing at a table full of plants and the setting sun turning the sky pink through the walls of the greenhouse, and heard low breathy moans and one satisfied grunt. They had watched, wide-eyed, as a second figure emerged from under the table, dressed in loose robes, face obscured by a fall of red hair, and was pulled to its feet and kissed soundly by the first figure. Then the first figure had grabbed hold of the second one by the arse, and was sliding its robes up –

"Ooh, she _was_ naked!" Peter crowed, jarring him back to the present, where James' mouth had dropped open.

"You dirty dogs," James said, in awed tones, and Remus groaned quietly. It had been bad enough emerging from the Pensieve unbearably hard and having to hide it from Sirius, but talking about it was bringing it all back. He pressed his knees together, and started reviewing arithmancy formulae in his head. 

"Fuck off, Potter," Sirius said, and yawned. "Nobody was naked – well, not really. Just – you know –" he continued, waving one hand towards his crotch.

"There's four we haven't looked in – saved 'em for you," Remus said, and James and Peter made a happy noises. 

"What did you do, then?" Sirius asked, and James launched into a description of Evans' latest brutal rejection of his advances.

**

Several hours later Remus was awakened from a dream of the rainforest by a loud thump from the direction of the center of the room. He pushed himself up and squinted into the darkness. He could see a lump of James under his covers, and hear Peter mumbling about hamsters – that left Sirius. He waited for a minute – he might just have tripped over his own shoes, on the way to the bog – but when he didn't see anyone stand up, he gout out of bed. 

"Sirius?" he whispered, picking up his wand and moving towards the sound of the noise. He could hear someone breathing raggedly. "All right, mate?" When he got no reply he cast a weak _Lumos_ , and in the dim light, he could see Sirius sitting in the middle of the floor, his head pressed to his knees. _Nightmare_ , he thought, and closed his eyes briefly, focusing on being calm. Perhaps the memories they had seen in the Pensieves had brought it on.

"Sirius," he said, crouching down, "Sirius, it's me – it's Remus, you're all right now," he added, and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. Sirius' head came up and he jerked away, his eyes wide and frightened. Remus pulled his hand back, a little confused and a little hurt.

"Where am I?" Sirius asked, his voice wavering. 

"In the Tower, where else would you be?" Remus said, settling down on his knees. Sirius blinked at him, slowly, and wiped his nose on his sleeve of his nighshirt.

"Where's Reggie?" Sirius said, after a minute, and Remus frowned – Sirius hadn't referred to his brother that way since First Year – but decided to play along. _Must've been a bad one_ , he thought, and made a mental note to have James check all of the other Pensieves before Sirius went in them.

"In the dungeons, I would guess," Remus replied, and Sirius' eyes darkened.

"What's he done?" Sirius asked, rolling to his knees, swaying slightly. Remus reached out again and steadied him, and this time he didn't pull away.

"Done? He hasn't done anything, he's asleep in his bed, like we should be. Come on, then, up you get," he added, and stood up, then leaned over to tug Sirius to his feet. He swayed some more, and closed his eyes, and Remus grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close without thinking about it. Sirius was stiff at first, and then he slumped against Remus' chest with a little sigh.

"Shh now," Remus said, even though Sirius wasn't making any noise, and held very still, not sure what else to do.

"Have'ta go to the bathroom," Sirius said, after a minute, and Remus let go and watched in mystified silence as Sirius walked towards puddle of light outside the bog, his arms stretched out as if he was walking on a tightrope.


	22. Curiosity and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 25: In the north, the snow still clings to the ground.

"I'll put five sickles on Thursday," Higgs said, hitching his satchel over his shoulder, and Harper grunted agreement. He stopped to make a note on the cover of one of his schoolbooks, and Regulus had to step quickly to avoid running into him. _Clumsy idiot_ , he thought, and made a little huffing noise.

"Two sickles on Wednesday," Davis said, "that's a full week and I can't see it going much further than that, really," he added, wrinkling his nose. 

"Can't imagine," Higgs whispered, with a mild shudder.

"The Carrows are a fine old blood-line," Regulus muttered, "and so are the Parkinsons." He had spent most of breakfast listening to Alecto coo at Parkinson and from the look in her eye, suspected the contract would be written soon. He was, if anything, grateful that Parkinson would be stuck with her, and not himself.

"She has a face like a squashed potato, Reg," Harper said, "and Rabbie said her fanny is –"

" _Alastair_ ," Davis said, his tone a warning, and Harper rolled his eyes. "Going to have to learn someday," he muttered, and Regulus was about to ask _what_ , exactly, it was he was going to have to learn when someone reached out and yanked him into a nook in the wall, and hugged him tight. 

"Mmph!" he said, finding his face pressed into scratchy black – _student_ – robes, and for a moment he thought it might be Severus. But no, he had seen the familiar hunched shoulders in the crowd of 4th and 5th Years ahead of him in the corridor. Besides which, Severus had never been one for physical contact. 

"Reggie! You're all right?" his captor said, releasing him slightly, and Regulus groaned. There was only one person who called him Reggie (everyone else had been hexed into submission), and it was his Merlin-bedamned _brother_ , who ought to be in _lessons_ with the rest of the stupid Gryffindors.

"Of course I'm all right, you pillock," he snapped, and wedged his hands between him and Sirius to push himself further away. He turned his head slightly and saw Higgs, Harper and Davis staring at them, their mouths open. Oddly enough, Sirius hadn't started shouting at them like he usually did. 

"Fuck off, you lot," he said, "I'll catch you up." Harper looked from him to Sirius, and opened his mouth to protest, but Higgs gave him an elbow in the ribs and chivvied them on.

"What the seven hells is the matter with _you?_ " he said, turning to Sirius, and noticing his ratty hair and mis-buttoned shirt. He looked like he'd gotten dressed in the dark with a hippogriff breathing down his neck.

"Where _are_ we, Reggie? And why are you sleeping in the dungeon?" Sirius whispered, and Regulus narrowed his eyes. Sirius was wide-eyed and looked genuinely confused. But then he could pull that expression out whenever he needed it. _Prank?_ he thought, and spent a few seconds trying to work out why Gryffindors would find this sort of thing hilarious before discarding the idea. 

"We're at Hogwarts, you numpty, and I'm sleeping in the Slytherin dorm, as you well know," he snapped. "And why it is Gryffindors cannot practice their _Confundus_ charms on Hufflepuffs like everyone else, and not on each other, is quite beyond me. Now _let go_ , please," he added.

"I'm really in Gryffindor?" Sirius hissed, and Regulus sighed, shaking his wand out of his sleeve.

"Unfortunately," he said, raising his wand and tapping Sirius' nose for good measure. His brother squeaked and reached out for the wand, and Regulus punched him gently in the chest.

"Settle down – _Finite incantatem_ ," he said, and Sirius blinked at him, twice. Regulus checked his watch and sighed. He had two minutes to get down to Kettleburn's pens. He stepped out of the nook and looked around, and saw one of Sirius' "friends" – Lupin, the skinny, sickly, half-blood – lurking a few meters away. 

"Come on or you'll be late for lessons," he hissed, yanking Sirius out of the nook, and shoving him towards Lupin.

**

 _5th: Cavalry charge, couldn't really tell where_ , the note said, in James' neat, loopy writing. _Lots of snow and some mountains, though, and chaps in furry hats. 6th: Naval battle. Think it might have been Trafalgar, but not sure. Memory was v. fuzzy – too many viewings? Can check w/Dad for details (no, he wasn't there, but_

Remus flipped the parchment over.

_he's keen on Nelson.) 7th Tea party fat man w/a beard and pretty lady in a high-necked dress. Tedious and fuzzy; left before the end. 8th Some sort of fair? Fireworks, pavilions with funny-looking birds (Pete says ostriches?), lots and lots of Muggles._

"Now, students, if I could have your full attention, please," Professor Eclipse said, and Remus slid the parchment into the pocket of his robes. Eclipse turned around to write something on the board and he risked a look at Sirius, who was, thankfully, sitting quietly next to James, and frowning at his book. He had been acting queer all morning – first insisting on going through his entire trunk before getting dressed, and then sitting in his bed next to a pile of clothes as if someone else was going to come along and dress him, until James threw a jumper at him and told him to shift his lazy arse. 

And then when they finally did arrive at breakfast – too late for sausages – he had gotten up three times to look at the Slytherin table. By the third time, Snape was on his feet, wand drawn, ready for a fight, and James had been behind Sirius, one hand on his shoulder, tugging him back, while Peter scavenged buttered toast and kippers to eat on the way to class.

"Who can tell me the best way to respond to a Pogrebin?" Eclipse asked, and Remus saw Lily's hand go up. Eclipse gave her a smile and nodded his head, causing his cap to wobble. He was a thin, elderly man with small, red eyes – he looked like nothing more than an especially large mouse – and Remus hoped nothing really awful would happen to him, because of the curse.

"A swift kick, sir," Lily said, "though _Stupefy_ is also effective," she added, and Remus felt another note hit him in the elbow.

 _Got two of them_ , it said, in Peter's untidy scrawl. _Wizard chappie with the hat plus a witch wearing a funny sort of crown. Haven't done anything interesting yet. Stuck 'em in my satchel; lunchtime?_

Remus flipped the parchment over and scribbled his agreement on the back, and snuck another look at Sirius. He had changed position, so that he was sitting cross-legged in his chair, and he had one hand pressed against his chest, and the other holding on to his book. Remus watched for a while, noticing that the hand on his chest kept drifiting upwards, towards his mouth, before being pressed back against his chest. James, for his part, did not seem to have noticed anything was wrong.

 _Merlin, I've broken him_ , Remus thought, and pressed his head into the heels of his hands. _Should have left all of the Pensieves well enough alone – you know better, young man_ , his conscience continued, sounding remarkably like his father, all soft and disappointed. _I didn't make him touch the figurine!_ Remus thought, and his conscience sighed. _You know you're the sensible one, you should have taken him straight to Pomfrey!_ Remus grimaced, and his conscience snorted at him. _Said he was fine_ , Remus thought, knowing it was a weak excuse. _Always does – remember the Great Walking Pneumonia Incident of 1973?_ his conscience hissed, and Remus winced. _All right, all right_ , he thought, and tore off a bit of parchment to write James a note.

**

James wrote back and agreed they would take take Sirius to Pomfrey _after_ lunch, and they were half-way to the Great Hall when they encountered a traffic jam. James got up on his toes and squinted, and shook his head.

"No use, lads, can't see anything," he said, and Peter made a disappointed noise. Remus adjusted his satchel and listened to his stomach grumble, and watched Sirius out of the corner of his eye.

"Probably Slytherins again, they're always causing trouble," said a nearby Ravenclaw, and James made a noise of agreement.

"Bastards," Peter said, and Remus sighed. The moon was four days away and he was _hungry_. 

"Kitty!" Sirius said, and dropped into a crouch. "Come here, kitty," he said, and lunged forward, his satchel catching Remus behind the knees and knocking him into Peter.

"Oi, fuck off," Peter snapped, pushing him back, and then Sirius stood up, clutching – _oh Merlin_ – a tabby cat with spectacle markings against his chest.

"Look, someone's lost their familiar," Sirius said, mostly to the cat. "Are you a Gryffindor familiar, kitty?" he asked, and James went so pale Remus was sure he was going to faint. Not that he could fault James; he was feeling a little dizzy himself.

"Sirius –" Peter began, sounding eerily calm, "Sirius, put the cat down."

"You can come to lunch with us, kitty," Sirius continued, undeterred, "Remus said it's roast beef day, so there'll be lovely scraps." 

"Sirius," James said, sounding a little strangled, "please, for the love of Morgana, _put the cat down._ "

"No," Sirius said, mildly, but Remus' heart sank at his tone – it was the one he normally used on the Lestranges, right before hexing them into walls. 

"Mr- _row_ ," said the cat, turning her head to look at Remus, and then at James, and he made a desperate _We're trying!_ face at her.

"Sirius –" Remus began, taking a deep breath, and then the traffic jam gave way and Sirius was off, McGonagall still firmly clutched against his chest. Remus tossed his satchel at Peter and went after him, murmuring apologies and ducking elbows.

He caught up with them just inside the doors of the Great Hall, and stopped for a moment to catch his breath and try to think of how in the world he was going to get Sirius turn the cat – _McGonagall_ – loose, short of violence. He watched as Sirius walked up to the table sat down on the bench, and nuzzled the cat with his face. _Oh, Merlin, no_ , Remus thought, and moved forward, heart in his throat.

"Sirius," he said, sitting down, "please let the cat go." He glanced at McGonagall and saw her ears were flicked forward, and she was giving him a steady green look.

"I think she's hungry," Sirius said, absently. "I'm hungry, Remus, I didn't get any breakfast," he added, sounding a little plaintive, and Remus felt his heart clench. Up close he could see Sirius had gotten to be a bit of a mess, somehow. There were ink splotches on his face and it looked like he might have been chewing on his tie.

"Lunch will be up in a minute," Remus said, and McGonagall made a small noise, perhaps of encouragement. Though it could just as easily have indicated _You are going to have detention for the rest of your life!_

"Can I have the cat, Sirius?" he asked, holding his arms out, but Sirius shook his head. 

"My cat," he said, softly, "well, until I find her proper owner. Think she likes me," he continued, smiling faintly and scratching McGonagall between the ears. "She's purring, Remus," he added, and Remus had to stifle a groan. 

"Why doesn't she just change back, for fuck's sake?" James whispered, when the rest of Gryffindor had arrived, and the plates had filled with food. Remus turned his head to look at Sirius, who had McGonagall on his lap (her tail was hanging over the side of the bench, twitching faintly), and was tearing his roast beef into tiny pieces to feed to her, and shrugged. He could hear him talking to her, as well, but too quietly to make out what he was saying.

All around them, students were watching, furtively, some – mostly the ones who had cats -- occasionally pushing a bit of their own meal towards Sirius. Both Longbottom and Alice Prewitt had seen the tail and stopped and leaned over for a closer look on their way towards the 7th Year section, but Remus had seen McGonagall shake her head at them, and they moved on. 

"She's going to go bloody spare when she does," Peter hissed, "we'll end up hanging by our toes in the dungeons for sure."

"Mmph," James said, and sighed, and they ate in silence, until the class bell rang.


	23. Restored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 26
> 
> 'On 30 April 1006, people as far afield as China, the Middle East and Europe were treated to a rare astronomical spectacle. They saw a stunningly bright star appear suddenly in the constellation of Lupus in the southern sky. The Egyptian astrologer Ali bin Ridwan recorded that the object was about three times as large as Venus, with a quarter of the Moon's brightness. Others said they could see it during the day, with some even claiming the star was bright enough to cast shadows.'
> 
> \--'An astronomical blast from the past', Physics World, April 2006.

_Clinic Log – Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry April 21, 1975_

**Practitioner** : Poppy Pomfrey, School Nurse  
 **Beds occupied** : 5   
**Beds available** : 95  
 **Current patients** : 94  
 **New Patients** : 1

New cases:

**McGonagall, Minerva (50), AH, HoH Gryffindor** – arr. Hospital Wing 1 PM Monday in Animagus form, acc. by Black, Sirius (14), Potter, James (15), Lupin, Remus (15) and Pettigrew, Peter (14) all 4th Year Gryffindor. Arr. in possession of Black, presenting signs of acute irritation. Examined with assistance of Lupin, no injury or illness noted. Released to Nurse's Office to transform.

**Black, Sirius (14), 4th Year, Gryffindor** – Arr. Hospital Wing 1 PM Monday in state of extreme agitation acc. as noted above. Patient arr. carrying HoH; presented signs of acute disorientation, poss. memory loss – did not recognize Nurse, or HoH in either form. Performed basic diagnostic tests; patient found to be underweight but otherwise healthy. Performed Lufkin sequence; patient responses indicated personal timeline of 1967. Administered 2 vials Calming Draught, assigned to bed 3. Condition may be the result of faulty enchantment on toy, per Lupin. Requested to see toy in question; produced by Pettigrew. HoH and I performed basic diagnostic tests on toy, results inconclusive. Sent toy to Headmaster w/note outlining the situation and requesting assistance. Also sent owl to mediwizards at Blackpool requesting additional information re: enchantments on toys. Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew all requested permission to remain with patient; request denied by HoH.

**

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and stroking his beard, once James had finished talking. Remus heard McGonagall make an exasperated noise in the corner. After Pomfrey had chucked them out of the Hospital Wing, they had spent a full hour explaining the situation to her before she marched them off to the Headmaster's office to explain again. Remus glanced to the left and saw that James looked vaguely relieved, but Peter was still wearing an expression of pinched worry. 

Remus felt his stomach roll, in silent agreement with Peter; they had left Sirius sleeping in the Hospital Wing, with assurances from Pomfrey that he would be set right in no time, but Remus wasn't sure whether or not he believed her. He had seen the concerned expression on her face when she and McGonagall were done examining the figurine.

"So – we won't get detention, sir?" James asked, in a hopeful tone, and McGonagall made a warning noise.

"I didn't say that, Mr. Potter," the Headmaster murmured, and James slumped in his chair.

"Didn't do it on _purpose_ ," James muttered, and Remus thought he saw the Headmaster's lips twitch at the edges, as if he were suppressing a smile.

"Do you know what room it was we found, sir?" Peter asked, leaning forward. _What room it is **I** found_ , Remus thought, and was pleased when Peter flinched under his glare.

"From Mr. Potter's description, I believe it may be the old Slytherin game room, which was lost, suddenly, some twenty-five years ago," Dumbledore said, sitting up, and Remus noticed that several of the people in the portraits behind him had woken up and were blinking slowly. "I'm not quite sure why Hogwarts has given it back to us now – but I intend to make a visit myself, later this evening, to close it off again, so as to – protect the unwary," he added. "And to collect the memories in the Pensieves, so that they can be returned to their proper owners, if possible."

"You'll put Sirius right, then, sir? He won't be – stuck – thinking he's seven?" Remus asked, wiping his (suddenly sweaty) hands on his robes and swallowed carefully. _I'll be expelled_ , he thought, _or he'll have to go home and his parents really will sell him into Romania. And then James and Peter will never speak to me again. But that won't matter because I'll be expelled._

"I shall do my best, Mr. Lupin," the Headmaster said, with a faint smile. "Madame Pomfrey informed me before you arrived that she has had a gull from Blackpool with some useful information – he may be back among you as soon as dinner-time." 

"Oh, thank you, sir," Remus said, nausea giving way to dizziness as a wave of relief washed over him. He closed his eyes briefly and heard someone – probably James – exhale softly.

McGonagall cleared her throat in a pointed manner and the Headmaster leaned forward and settled his elbows on his desk.

"As for the nature of your punishment, gentlemen, I feel I must restrict you to Gryffindor Tower until the end of Term, except for – lessons and other necessary activities – in hopes that you will manage to avoid doing yourselves any additional mischief," Dumbledore said, and Remus heard Peter gasp.

"But –" James began, and for one awful moment, Remus thought he might actually try and _argue_ with the Headmaster. Dumbledore arched one white eyebrow, and James subsided with a muted " – yes, sir."

"Right, gentlemen, you're dismissed," Dumbeldore said, lifting up a dish of sweets and offering one to each of them. "I'll expect you to call upon Professor Flitwick at your earliest convenience to see about making up the work you missed due to not being in class this afternoon," he added, as they shuffled out of his office.

**

"I did _what?_ " Sirius hissed, propping his Astronomy book on the desk, to shield them from Sinistra's view, and turned to face Remus. He was still a little smudged about the face, but his hair was combed and his shirt was buttoned straight, and he had found a fresh tie somewhere. True to Dumbledore's word, he had appeared at dinner, wild-eyed and demanding a full accounting of his day, insisting he didn't remember any of it. Remus had had to sit on his hands to keep himself from giving him a hug. He had, however, pulled Sirius aside on the way to Astronomy and tried to apologize, but that had been waved away with a _Not your fault, Moony._

"We tried to get her away, Sirius, we did," James whispered, from the other side, and Sirius turned to face him. "You weren't having any of it," he added, and Sirius groaned. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Lily turn around and gave them a quelling look, before tipping her head back to look at the illusion of the Southern night sky on the ceiling of the Astronomy Tower.

"She didn't seem that cross," Peter offered, and Remus snorted. "Well, not once Pomfrey sussed you – weren't yourself."

"No wonder she was giving me the stink eye at dinner," Sirius muttered. "Did I speak to anyone else?" he added, running a hand through his hair, and James made an uncertain noise.

"You grabbed Reg in the corridor this morning," Remus said, "but that's it, aside from us, I mean," he added, and Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Remus reached out and patted his knee, tentatively, wanting to be comforting but not quite sure what to say. 

There was a long silence, and then Remus thought he heard Sinistra say something that might have been "Lupin" and automatically looked up, but she was just gesturing at a star cluster with her wand. He listened to her for a while – something about an ancient eclipse casting shadows – and tried not to think about the coming moon, which was already starting to make his arms itch.

"Confined to the Tower until the end of Term," Peter said, with a small sigh. "There's Remus' plan scuppered," he added, and Sirius made a contemplative noise.

"Might not be, actually," Sirius said, a broad grin sliding across his face as they all turned to stare at him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 27: It’s so hard to concentrate when the sun comes out!
> 
> WARNINGS: mention of wanking, Remus ponders doing himself an injury (but doesn't)

The first day of confinement in the Tower had been restful – a relief, almost – and Remus spent most of the time lazing on the couch, or dozing in the sunlight on the floor amid stacks of pillows, alternating between reading about rare plants, listening to James describe the contents of the Pensieves to Shacklebolt and Jordan over and over again, and laughing at Sirius being swarmed by 6th and 7th year girls intent on coddling him. 

On the second day he grew slightly restless, the couch became unaccountably lumpy, and the throw pillows all went flat, like little felted pancakes. His books ceased to be comforting, and he grew weary of the sound of Peter's voice, nasally replaying the sights and sounds of the Muggle gathering in the 7th Pensieve, and Soleil McFarland grew more shrill each time she asked Sirius about the experience of being hit by an expired _Juvenalius Beatus_ charm. 

On the evening of the third day he almost growled at Alice Prewitt when she asked him to please settle and stop pacing, for Merlin's sake, the couch was suddenly full of broken springs that popped out and poked him in the back, and all of the good pillows were snatched up by Second Years practicing levitation charms. To add insult to injury, Butcher and Brown took up residence in the only comfortable chair in the Common Room, and proceeded to snog as if their lives depended on it. 

Sirius and James both gave him sympathetic looks, Sirius biting his lower lip in a way which Remus was sure should be illegal. The whole thing made his mouth taste of kissing and bile, no matter how much tea he drank. That night he lay awake staring at his canopy, squeezing his balls and yanking on himself, half-wondering if he could just tear the wretched thing off at the root and solve all of his problems at once, but he fell into a fitful sleep before he could think of how he would manage to go to the loo with no penis.

Early in the evening of the fourth day he pinned Sirius to the Common Room floor three times in a row, collected the bar of chocolate they had been fighting for, threw two pillows at Peter hard enough to make him squeak, and stalked off to the Hospital Wing. He sat quietly, staring at his bare feet, while Pomfrey examined him, practicing household charms in his head while she took his temperature and checked his pulse. When she left him to rest until it was time to walk down to the Whomping Willow, he locked himself in the bathroom near the private rooms and wanked until he was sore, thinking about Sirius wriggling beneath him, his face flushed with laughter, not sure until the end if he was going to vomit or come.

**

"You're mad, is what you are," James said, flopping down on Remus' empty bed, buttoning his pyjamas. On the other side of the room, Peter shoved his shoes off. In a very secret part of his self, he enjoyed Remus being gone for a few days every month, leaving him with James' and Sirius' undivided attention. And after four days of being cooped up in the Tower with an increasingly cranky werewolf, Peter was ready for a few days of fun without anyone around to ruin things by moaning about _rules_ and _detention_. James and Sirius – especially Sirius – tended to be extra solicitous, bringing the arse chocolate and charming his pillows to be softer when he wasn't looking, and (this week) hexing Brown's tongue so it got stuck in Butcher's ear for several hours, not that Remus deigned to notice.

"Mad, bad, and dangerous to know," Sirius agreed cheerfully, from inside his nightshirt. Eventually he emerged shrugged at James' confused expression. "'s what Moony says, anyway. Although he said he lifted it from someone else – some Muggle tart called Caroline Lamb."

"How did you meet _her?_ " James asked, his eyes widening, and Sirius grinned and threw a pillow at him.

"Didn't, she's dead, and anyway she wasn't really talking about _me_ ," Sirius added, and James made a huffing noise. "She was talking about the bloke she was shagging at the time, a chap named Byron, Moony's mum likes his poetry –"

" _Sirius_ ," James said, mildly, and Sirius blinked once before throwing another pillow at him, which led to a brief wrestling match. Peter tied his pyjamas around his waist and sat down on the bed to wait for them to finish. Eventually James pinned Sirius and they both staggered upwards, their faces red with exertion.

"Won't work," James muttered, sitting back down on the bed.

"Bollocks it won't," Sirius said, and shook his hair back, his eyes alight in what Peter thought was a most promising fashion. "Watch and learn, Potter, watch and learn," he added, and James rolled his eyes. Peter moved to sit next to James, wanting to be as close to any excitement as possible.

"Everose! Sugalump!" Sirius said, loudly, there were two resounding cracks, and then there were two House Elves standing in front of them, wearing ragged linen glass-polishing cloths and matching concerned expressions. Sirius made a noise that might have been surprise, and might have been triumph.

"Master Sirius!" said the one on the left, and Sirius gave it (her?) a tentative smile. The one on the right let out a shriek and started banging it's head on Remus' headboard, until James darted forward and pulled it away, commanding it to stop it at once. Peter, who mainly thought of House Elves as efficient food delivery systems, edged further back on the bed and made an unhappy face.

"Everose told Madame Andromeda, Everose is so _sorry_ , Master Sirius," the first one said, it's enormous eyes welling with tears. "Everose and Sugalump were _tricked_ , by that _wicked_ –" here it broke off and began to wail, and Sirius dropped to his knees and gave it a gentle shake.

"I know, Everose, it's all right," he said, "I'm not cross with you. Actually, I'm – I'm sorry, too," he said, ducking his head. "Be quiet, now, please," he added, a note of pleading in his voice, and it stopped it's awful noise.

"Master Sirius is _apologizing_ to a _house elf?_ " the elf said, and Peter wondered if house elves could faint, and how to revive them, if they did.

"I –" Sirius began, and there was a very long silence. "Topsy," he added, in a small voice, and the elf made an understanding noise. James let go of the second elf and knelt down next to Sirius, and settled one hand on his shoulder, gazing straight at the first elf.

"Topsy was a good elf," the elf said, and Sirius nodded. "Master Sirius has nothing to apologize for – Madame Druella is a wicked, cruel –" it continued, before breaking off with a wail and darting forward and trying to bang it's head on Remus' bed. James turned around and looked at Peter, who shrugged, while Sirius caught the elf made it be quiet again.

"Is Master Sirius hungry? Would he and his friends like some cake?" the other one asked, after a minute, sounding hopeful, and Peter made an encouraging noise.

"Not just now, Sugalump – belt up, Pettigrew," Sirius said, bringing his head up and taking a deep breath. "I need you to help me with something," he added, and Peter saw the first one stiffen and look as suspicious as a House Elf could look.

"Everose has had heard that before, Master Sirius," the first one said, narrowing it's enormous eyes and twisting its hands in its glass-polishing cloth. 

"Disgrace! Clothes!" the second one said, burying it's face in it's hands.

"No tricks, Everose, I promise," Sirius said, settling back on his heels. "Here, I'll tell you what's up, and afterwards you can – can decide if you want to help or not," he said, and the other one made a horrified noise and raised it's head.

"Everose and Sugalump would never _disobey_ Master Sirius!" it said, and Sirius gave it an encouraging smile, and Peter heard James stifle a laugh. 

An hour later, after the elves had popped in and out of the dorm room twice (they had come back to insist Master Sirius and his friends have some cake), Peter drifted off to sleep, lulled by the familiar noise of Sirius and James whispering to each other in the dark.

**

_**Wurke's Peerage -- Romania – Purebloods -- 818** _

**Sinaia of Monk's Rest**

**Vlad Sinaia of Monk's Rest**

**Recognized by Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, 1949, served with Grindelwald 1940-1945, P.O.W. East Anglia 1943-1945, pleaded Imperious and pardoned 1946, b. 1901, educ. Durmstrang, m. Angelina Yaxley, 1920; had issue**

**Iosef Sinaia, b. 1950, educ. Durmstrang, d. 1970 (Dragon Pox)  
Prahova Sinaia, b. 1960, educ. Beauxbatons**

**Lineage – Anton Sinaia of Monk's Rest, 1488, m. Josephine Black, 1508 and had issue –**

Sirius paused, glanced over the rows of type that his mother had doubtless read _very carefully_ , and before dropping his eyes to the bottom of the page.

**Lands and castles confiscated by ICW, 1946. Reside Bucharest.**

"Damn," he said, faintly, and turned the page. Under the guise of searching for books for Herbology, he had spent the entire morning in the Library, the sun on his back making him sweaty and uncomfortable, and not found a single girl that his mother would consider "appropriate" whose family had a dragon preserve. If anything, he had the feeling his summer hols were going to be a slow, dreary parade through Bucharest and Sofia, full of afternoons trying to make small-talk in French with girls who thought a Hogwarts education made one soft.

 _You're coming to mine – the whole summer, not just a fortnight_ , James had said, the night before, after Everose and Sugalump had left and Sirius had been forced by virtue of a knee in the vitals to surrender the whole story of Topsy. _No excuses, I already asked Mum_ , James had added, pressing his lips together, and clenching his fists against his pyjama-clad knees. _If I have to fly to London and break you out myself, I will._ Sirius had been unable to breathe, for a while, and then James had punched him in the shoulder, told a really filthy joke and started describing the Wizarding section of Brighton, rambling on about ice lollies and fit birds on the promenade until Sirius fell asleep at the foot of Moony's bed wrapped in a warm glow of contentment.

But that at breakfast there was another letter from his mother, including a list of books to read so he could "at least pretend to be intelligent," and he had (guiltily) doubted that even Mrs. Potter would really be able to extract him from the disaster that his summer was sure to become.

"Reading the stud book, are we, Mr. Black?" someone – Soleil McFarland – said from behind him, amusement in her voice. He spun around and looked at her, hoping she didn't really want to talk to him. She was tall and blonde -- attractive enough, he supposed, and shapely, according to Jordan, but there was a wildness in her eyes that made his pulse race in a vaguely distressing way. She had a penchant for experimentation and a talent for blowing things up – all admirable qualities in a witch, as James had often pointed out – but Lovegood had gotten there first. _Like Moony better anyway_ , part of his brain added, the same part that had woken him at moon-set and propelled him to the window, where he sat and read about the Animagus spells for a while, his head pressed against the cool glass. _Soon_ , he had thought, at the darkness, _soon, Moony_. Afterwards he had gone back to his own bed and petted himself until he went back to sleep, and fell into troubling dreams.

"Find anything you like?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, and Sirius blinked at her, momentarily confused. "In the book, Sirius. I take it it's your turn for the Forced Matrimony March? Dozens of heiresses with spotless blood to be trotted out for your mum, to have their politics approved and teeth checked?" she added, moving closer and making faint noise in the back of her throat. 

"Yes, Soleil," he said, wincing at the image of his mother prizing mouths open with her wand – he wouldn't put it past her – "I mean, yes, it's my turn – I – I didn't –" he began, and ground to a halt when she brushed one slightly dry hand over his face, and tilted his head to get a better look at his face.

"No, I don't reckon you did," she said, softly, turning his head to one side, and then the other, smiling faintly. "Shame to lose that fine bone structure to the East when your heart's desire lies close to home – the witches of Britain shall mourn the loss of your cheekbones," she continued, dropping her hand. 

"What?" Sirius croaked, as his stomach dropped to his knees. _Oh Merlin oh no she knows – Moony - she **knows**_ , he thought, hoping his terror didn't show on his face.

"You are not the only wizard – or witch – to be – disappointed – by the stud book," she said, quietly. "I myself found it quite – insufficient for my needs, for many years, though recently it has been – quite satisfactory," she added, and Sirius hoped his mouth had not actually dropped open. He had so many questions he didn't even know which one to ask first. They sat in silence for a while, as he tried to figure out of there was a polite way to phrase what he wanted to know, until he heard Alice Prewitt calling for her a few stacks away.

"She graduated, two years ago," Soleil said, before leaning forward to drop a kiss on his forehead and moving off down the narrow rows of books, shouting at Alice that she was on her way.


	25. Unexpected Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 28: Picture: Small boy peeking through a knothole in a fence.
> 
> WARNINGS: Remus is off of his face on pain meds for a good bit of this chapter.

"This is _tedious_ ," Evan said, with just a hint of irritation in his tone, one hand holding back a ratty old grimoire, the other on his hip. 

"You know Lucius' instructions," Severus murmured, from his perch on a low stool, not looking up from the letter he was writing.

"Does he enjoy reading reports that are nothing but endless repetitions of 'Arse the Elder fawned over by dizzy Gryffindor cows?' and 'Arse the Younger was most displeased with the chocolate cookies sent by his interfering cousin?'" Evan snapped, and Severus sighed. 

"You're welcome to accompany Stephen and Nigel to the greenhouses –" he began, and felt rather than saw Evan rolling his eyes.

"Mucky," Evan muttered. "Also, Nigel _eats_ things if you don't watch him. No _thank_ you. Also – hold the Qwik-Quill – Arse the Elder is standing up. He's moving. He's – brace yourself, Severus – _putting the book away_ ," he added. Severus rolled up his letter and stuffed the ink and quill in his satchel, while Evan made a great show of shading his eyes with his free hand. "And – well, either he's thinking or he's got gas – the way he eats, it's probably gas – oh, and he's off, making a strong start through the History of Magic stacks – hey!" 

"Come on," Severus hissed, from halfway down the aisle, as Evan untangled his feet and gave himself a shake. "We're going to lose him if you don't shift it," he added, quelling the urge to bounce on his toes. For all his idiocy, Black was quick on his feet – from what he could tell, it seemed to run in the family. 

"Honestly, Severus," Evan huffed, as he picked up his satchel and settled it on his shoulder, "you have been watching too many of those – what do the Mudbloods call them? – films. Yes – all right, I'm coming," he snapped, and fell into step beside Severus, his blond hair glinting in the sun. They wound through the History of Magic and Ancient Runes sections in silence, following the trail of dreamy-eyed girls until they arrived at the front door to the Library in time to see Black disappear through it.

Severus stood quietly and tried not to grind his teeth while Evan checked a book out, Pince all but simpering the whole time (and her a Slytherin, as well) and then they were off again, pausing occasionally to ask the portraits for clues. At times he was sure the Castle _knew_ what they were doing and was working against them – they walked down at least one dead end that had been a full corridor earlier in the day, and several of the staircases seemed to swing with unnecessary slowness. Severus was contemplating having a word with the nearest wall when Evan made a pleased noise and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Look, Severus, on the other side of the staircase, there's Loony Lupin, and I do believe he's talking to his imaginary friend," he whispered, and Severus glanced over, wondering if this was what the Castle had been trying to do. He patted the banister in apology, just in case. 

"—and then, of course, they seeded Grasmere with kelpies and kappas, and Lionel the Brave couldn't be having any of that, could he, as King of the West, bad for business, so he rang his friend Euan, High-King – well, all right, he didn't really _ring_ , he – sent a runner, or a rider – or possibly a Patronus – it was a _lion_ , you _berk_ ," Lupin said as he stepped on to the landing. Evan coughed once, loudly, and Lupin's head swung around to face them, allowing Severus to see his face was pale and his eyes were mostly pupil. 

"Rosier," he said, and Evan executed a courtly bow. "Snape," he added, and Severus pointedly didn't respond. Something about the blank space next to Lupin didn't _feel_ right. And he was almost sure he could hear a fourth person breathing.

"Excuse me, may I get by?" Lupin said, after a long silence, and Severus was sure something in the empty air next to him _rippled_.

"No," Evan said, smiling faintly, "not until you finish the story, Loony, or tell us one we like better. Severus and I require to be _entertained_. I don't suppose you know any good jokes, half-breed?" Remus slid his hands into the pockets of his robes and looked thoughtful. Severus edged closer, drawn by the familiar whispering tingle of _something_ that radiated off Lupin.

"Well, I did ask politely," Lupin said, sounding almost regretful, and then his wand was out ( _flash of red_ ) and Evan was down, and laughing, but not pleasantly, and Severus lunged forward, wand out, but there was a ( _flash of yellow_ ) and he was stuck firmly to the castle wall, and there was – something – red and scratchy – on his face that he could just about see if he crossed his eyes.

"LUPIN!" Severus roared, but he was already half-way up the stairs, and gave no sign he had heard.

**

"—and the Euan the High-King rang his mate, who was called Nigel, and was in charge of London, and he sent about twenty fellows around, you know –" Remus said, as the door to the dormitory clicked shut behind them, then went quiet when Peter pulled the Cloak off.

"All right, mate?" James said, and waved his wand at the wireless to turn the volume down.

"Snape," Peter said, not sure where to begin. "Rosier," he added, as James popped off the bed and moved towards them, one hand moving through his hair. Peter's heart had been pounding hard ever since he stepped on the landing and saw those black eyes peering out of the shadows. Of course it would have to be _him_ stuck collecting Remus from the Hospital Wing – technically it was James' turn, but he had been occupied making eyes at Evans, Sirius was no-where to be found and _someone_ had to go. 

At first it had been a little bit of a thrill, as it always was when he was all by himself under the Cloak, able to go anywhere he liked and no-one would know. He had wandered about for a while, even taking a quick turn through the Library to pick up any stray bits of gossip that had not yet made it to the Tower before making his way to the Hospital Wing.

And once Remus had solemnly promised Pomfrey he would be back directly if he felt ill, and they were underway, Peter had even been half-enjoying the history lesson. It was any odds what Remus would say when he was off his face on pain potions. He had recited the Canterbury Tales in the original Old English for James, once, and Sirius claimed he had been treated to increasingly dirty limericks all the way to the Tower, but Peter was, of course, never that lucky. _He_ got Euan the High King and his mate Nigel, though admittedly Remus was marginally more entertaining than Binns. But then they had taken that last step and the Slytherins were _there_ , and Peter had painfully aware that if he didn't get Remus back to the Tower in one piece that James and Sirius were going to _kill_ him.

"What?" James said, leaning forward, and Peter took a deep breath, getting ready to tell the story.

"Nose," Remus said, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Yes, he has got one," James said, a tinge of irritation creeping in to his tone. "What have you done to it, then?"

"Red!" Remus said, and giggled. James turned to Peter and arched one black eyebrow, his lips twitching.

"We met them on the Muggle Studies landing," Peter said, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Remus was spinning in slow circles, his head tilted back. "Remus was telling me about Lionel the Brave –" he continued, and then he heard the door open and close behind him.

"Where've you been then, Black, you wanker?" James asked, distracted, and Peter sighed.

"Library, you arse – Oi, don't let him do that, he'll be ill," Sirius said, catching Remus by the elbow and stopping him from spinning. Remus made an unhappy noise and headbutted Sirius' shoulder.

"On a _Sunday?_ " James said, actually sounding surprised, and Sirius glared at him. Remus whimpered and tried to start spinning again but Sirius was holding fast. "Which Ravenclaw is it, then?"

"Isn't – bugger off, Remus – was checking the stud book for Romanian heiresses with dragon preserves," he said, and Peter felt a small flush of pride that Sirius had actually taken something he said to heart. James looked slightly annoyed, but that was probably because he hadn't suggested it first.

"Vampires!" Remus said, "vant to suck your blood!" he added, and spread his arms as best he could before launching himself at the crook of Sirius' neck and latching on. There were a few seconds of mumbling and muted sucking noises, and Peter thought he saw Sirius' face go slack and his knees dip, but then whatever he thought he saw was gone, chased away by James' laughter and the general confusion of prizing Remus off of Sirius' neck and depositing him in his own bed, still chuckling to himself. Sirius sat down next to him and pushed him over, muttering something that might have been _daft bugger_ before lifting Remus' feet into his lap and untying his shoes.

"What was that about Snape, Peter?" James asked, settling down on Sirius' bed, and then the door to the dormitory banged open and Shacklebolt fell in, hair first, with Jordan at his heels. 

"Shacklebolt, what --?" James began, as they straightened up, and even Sirius stopped what he was doing to stare at the wild fuzzy curls on Shacklebolt's normally close-cropped head.

"Rapunzel charms," Shacklebolt said, waving one hand, "but never mind, word on the party-floo is Sprout's planting something wicked – Alice said it's a Virilus and they're dead rare -- on the Quidditch pitch – come _on_ , men, you'll be _late_ ," he said, and slammed back out again, and then there was more flurry, as James summoned his broom and the Cloak, told Peter to get on and belt up, and Sirius opened the window and stepped back, waving them on, saying something like _Seen one before, go on_. Peter held his breath while they fell past bloody miles of grey slate, exhaling when James pulled out of the dive and they soared up and out, skimming once out over the Lake before banking and gliding to a halt right above Evans' brilliant red head.

**

 _Left foot, check_ , Remus thought, and moved on to his right foot, and then his hands, bending each finger individually just to be _sure_. The softness of the sheets beneath his nose suggested he was back in the Tower; he cracked one eye open and saw bed curtains, and then Sirius, curled on the windowsill near his bed with a book in his lap. The room was oddly silent; James and Peter were out, then. He lay still for a moment, floating in a vaguely pleasant haze of pain, assessing the over-all damage – _not dead; not so bad this month_ , part of him noted, and then he settled down to working out which of his limbs he could actually _move_.

 _Right arm, push **up**_ , he thought, after a while, and almost succeeded in rolling on to his side on the first try. He was gearing up for a second attempt when he saw Sirius' head jerk up and felt someone watching him. _Come on, you can do it_ , he told himself, irritation breaking through the burning in his muscles, and he bit his lip and closed his eyes and _pushed_ , and that time he managed to get his knees and hips aligned before he fell back on the pillows. He heard a heavy thud that was probably Sirius putting the book down, and then the bed dipped and there was a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Mm," he said, and felt slightly rough fingers push his hair out of his face. He was obscurely grateful he was too weak and sore to be able to give in to the impulse to raise his head and nuzzle Sirius' hand.

"All right, mate?" Sirius said, and Remus managed a shrug. "Peter said you got Snape and Rosier good and proper on the way up," he added, and Remus frowned, trying to remember. "You were saying something about Snape's nose, when I got here," he continued, and Remus felt his covers being straightened; one warm hand coasted over his back in the process and he made an involuntary contented noise. Having Sirius touch him felt so _good_ and that was so _wrong_. 

"Itchy?" Sirius asked, and the hand came to rest between Remus' shoulders. Remus hesitated for a moment before surrendering to his aching body and nodding. There was a brief pause and then he felt five finger-tip sized pools of warmth trace odd patterns up and down his back while Sirius hummed a vaguely familiar tune under his breath – was that _Rule, Britannia?_

"Remus," he said, after a while, changing tunes ( _Greensleeves?_ ) "do you have any wizarding relatives who haven't gotten married?"

"Hmm?" Remus said, momentarily baffled, trying to work out how they had gotten from whatever it was he had done to Snape and Rosier (he hoped he would find out what it was _before_ McGonagall summoned him to her office to hand out the detention) to unmarried relatives; after a while he gave up and tried to summon a mental image of the chart his father kept in his study. "Uncle Augustus," he said, around a yawn. "Dad's older brother."

"The Lupin Heir," Sirius said, sounding surprised, and Remus wrinkled his nose. Uncle Augustus was a tall, broad-shouldered man who lurked in corners at what few family events Remus had attended, and who had smelled of potions ingredients and damp cellars for as long as he could remember. 

"How'd he do it, then?" Sirius asked, and moved to settle himself against the headboard. Remus sensed he was straining to keep up the scratching and tried to push himself up the bed. Sirius made a clucking noise and Remus felt magic wash over him briefly as he was lifted off the bed and moved a few inches forward.

"Dunno," he said, trying to remember if his father had ever said anything on the subject. "Stubborn, mostly," he added, and he heard Sirius chuckle softly. "Doesn't like children, says they get into everything and then the whole house is bloody covered in jam," he continued, yawning again. He tried to summon more words, but then the fingers migrated to his neck, and stayed there until he drifted to the edge of sleep. He was about to let go and roll over into dreams when he heard the distant ringing of the dinner bell and felt the fingers move away. There was a pause, and then the bed dipped again, and someone quite definitely kissed his cheek before pulling his blanket over his shoulders and patting his back. He was so surprised he didn't move again until he heard the soft click of the door as Sirius left the room.


	26. Rites of Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 29: Spring festivals: Floralia/Beltane/Walpurgisnacht/May Day
> 
> WARNINGS: Lewd vegetation.

"First Floor, near the kitchens," James said, leaning over to tickle Remus' nose with a blade of grass. 

"Fuck off, Potter," Remus said, batting blindly at his hand, and Sirius made a loud contemplative noise in his ear. 

"Have to feed the monster somehow," Peter said, his voice not as close as the others. There was a pause, and then Remus could have sworn he heard bells ringing. 

"House Elves would complain," Sirius said, after a minute, "great mucky thing getting in the pudding all the time." Remus felt him shift, and then heard the faint _snap snap_ of grass being picked.

It had been three days since the kiss – three tense, awkward days, at least for Remus, though Sirius seemed unaware anything had happened. _What was that?_ Remus wanted to ask, but didn't dare. _You were sleeping, or he thought you were_ , he had told himself, over and over again. _You were ill, and hurt, and you know how he is when people are ill_ , he had added, but the memory of fingertips and lips wouldn't go away. He had spent the better part of two evenings staring at his canopy, Sirius' sleeping warmth on his feet, clenching the bedclothes with both hands to prevent himself from wanking to his best friend.

"Monsters like pudding?" Peter said, and this time there was thumping _and_ jingling. 

Remus rolled over on to his side and pushed himself up, wincing at sore muscles. Like the rest of Gryffindor, they had spent most of the early evening hours assisting Hagrid with lining the path to the Quidditch pitch with cords of wood and kindling for the bonfire. Somewhere in the course of the exercise – Remus suspected it was when the girls had come out from the Castle to finish their floral garlands – Sirius and James had both contrived to lose their shirts, ties, shoes and socks and were now lying on the ground behind Hagrid's hut in nothing but their trousers. 

"'Course they do, you numpty," Sirius said, his hand coming up to shield his face as Peter threw a chunk of sod at him.

"Underneath the Potions classroom?" James offered, rolling to his feet, the setting sun painting him red and gold. Remus heard several muffled female sighs nearby, and James ran his hand through his hair automatically.

"Checked there," Peter said, amid more jingling, "last term. Lestrange and Snape caught us and we had to run for it. And then Slughorn caught us and we had to have tea with him and it was _awful_ ," he added, and Sirius made a noise of agreement. 

"Underneath the Hufflepuff Common Room?" Sirius asked after a while, and Remus turned to look at him – at his chest, really. The bruises and scrapes were almost completely faded, though he was still a little hollow about the ribs. Remus felt something bloom deep in his belly, and turned away quickly. _Stop_ , he told himself, _stop this right now_ , but the goosebumps came up anyway. He pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand next to James, letting the breeze ruffle his hair, and tried to think about other things.

"Third Year," Peter said, from behind them, his tone turning irritated. "Prefects caught us, and McGonagall gave us a week's worth of detention for no good reason at all. Then the 7th Years thrashed us for snooping," he added, with a little huffy noise, and James grunted in recognition.

"Hmm," Sirius said, "we should make a record, a map –" he added, and then Hagrid, Dumbledore, and the rest of the professors appeared on the horizon at the head of a long, winding column of cows, and Longbottom's _Sonorus_ -enhanced voice rang out, calling them to order, and whatever Sirius had been going to say slipped away in a flurry of knees and elbows as they pushed their way past milling Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to get to the path to the Quidditch pitch.

They stood still while Longbottom and Alice counted noses, Peter muttering under his breath about being _late_ and shifting from one foot to the other, until Alice turned and waved him away towards a knot of Hufflepuffs, shaking her head.

"What --?" James began, but then the teachers and the Headmaster moved to stand next to the stacked cords of wood, Alice put her wand arm in the air and called the girls to her, and Longbottom was shooing them towards Hagrid and the cows, shouting them down the line until they came to the end, where he arranged them in three rows, the older boys at the back. Remus stretched up to his toes and craned his neck trying to see what the girls were up to – 

_pop!_

\-- and the world, or part of it, was on fire. He heard James and Sirius gasp with pleasure, and the cows started to move, slowly, stamping and snorting. There was a pause and someone in the back let out a Highlander's war cry; the cows surged forward, and Remus felt James, or maybe Sirius, grab him by the wrist and pull him along, shrieking with laughter and dodging cowpats, running hard up the path and through the bright hot heat of the fire to the pitch, where they found Headmaster, the professors and rest of the school standing in a ring around the towering Virilis. The single bud at the top was bright red and looked like it was ready to explode.

"Looks like a big willy," Sirius whispered in his ear, pressing his body far too close for comfort, and Remus elbowed him in the ribs, even though he was right. Suddenly a wave of dizziness rolled over him and he stumbled backwards, falling against Sirius' chest. He felt a steadying arm curl around his waist and hot breath at his neck, and shook his head trying to clear it, but it didn't work.

Dumbledore stepped forward and began to speak, the firelight causing him to cast a long, slightly sinister shadow, but Remus couldn't hear him over James' steady muttering, amd after a while he gave up trying. He felt another arm curl around his waist and let himself sag against Sirius, no longer caring what it might mean – perhaps he was just cold, after all – he could see James was starting to shiver a little, this far from the fire.

Dumbledore stepped back and then a group of boys – mostly Hufflepuffs, it looked like at first, and then he saw Peter's bright curls – moved forward and formed a ring around the base of the Virilis. The tallest of them raised his arm and called out something Remus couldn't hear, and they began to dance, stomping their feet and jumping up and down, and then the sound of bells filled the air, along the sharp click of wands bouncing off each other. 

After dancing twice around, the Hufflepuffs walked off and the Ravenclaw choir moved forward and began to sing in Latin, and Remus closed his eyes and let their high clear voices weave the magic around him, perhaps even humming along under his breath, until the crowd gasped and something damp and scratchy hit him in the face. He felt Sirius inhale sharply and then there was a cold space at his back. Remus opened his eyes to see that the Virilis had bloomed, sending hundreds of thick, multicolored, vine-like tendrils floating through the air. He grabbed a red one and took off after Sirius and James, who were already ducking and dodging through the crowd.

**

"Have we got everybody?" someone said – a familiar female voice, Alice Prewitt, probably, or maybe Murphy, he wasn't sure, but whoever it was, they were fairly nearby. Remus pulled his knees up to his chest and wriggled closer to the embers of the dying bonfire, half-hoping he would missed and left to sleep in the warm, dark little corner he had found. The air was a little chilly, but he still had his robes on, and with the fire at his back he was quite content to spend the night outside. He could feel the distant, stubborn pull of the Virilis on his skin, especially his cock, but it was not strong enough to prevent him from sleeping.

He didn't remember exactly when he had left the circle, only that the dancing had gone on for what had felt like hours, and that at some point he had lost Sirius, James and Peter in the muddle of bodies. He drifted for a while, weaving his tendril into the general net, buffeted on all sides by unfamiliar bodies – hands on his back, lips on his face, fingers tugging at his hair – but eventually he had grown weary of it, and pulled himself away, and retreated to the fireside to watch the revelry and wait for the others. At some point the Ravenclaws had started singing again, in Italian, and that was what had lulled him to sleep.

"One more, over here – oh, it's Lupin," said a different voice, one that sounded a little like Gudgeon. Remus felt a hand settle on his shoulder and give him a gentle shake. He pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a little bleary and cross.

"Come on, then, time to go sleep in your bed," the first person said, and he opened his eyes to see it was, indeed, Alice Prewitt, and she was crouched next to him, wrapped in Frank's cloak. Gudgeon was behind her, and he could see Longbottom and some of the professors in the distance, rousing other sleeping children and prodding them towards the path.

"Sirius," he said, and yawned, and Alice gave him a broad smile.

"Waiting for you down the path," she said, "with Potter and Pettigrew," and put her hand out to pull him to his feet. Once standing he swayed a little, but did not fall, even when Alice gave him a little shove to start him moving. He found the others towards the bottom of the hill; Peter was still bouncing and jingling, and Sirius was inexplicably sitting atop a shaggy Highland cow, his hands gripping its horns as if he were riding a motorcycle. He was still wearing nothing but his trousers.

"Vroom!" he said, in the way of greeting, and the cow snorted and tossed it's head, almost unseating him, and Remus heard James sigh as he rested his head against the animal's flank and wondered if Sirius were going to try and drive the creature all the way to bed, and if so, if James would be able to talk him out of it.

"Ride with me, Moony," Sirius said, and Remus was about to object when he felt magic swirl over him as someone – possibly James – lifted him up and settled him on the cow behind Sirius. Sirius made a clucking noise at the back of his throat and did something with his knees that made the cow lurch forewards; Remus squeaked and scrabbled to hold on, ending up with one arm around Sirius' waist, and one hand clutching a hunk of red cow fur. After a minute he grew accustomed to the cow's rocking gait, and dropped his head onto Sirius' right shoulder, which was chilly and smooth and smelled vaguely of campfire. He could hear James and Peter talking in low voices behind them, the conversation a mixture of Quidditch and insults, and sighed contentedly.

"All right, Moony?" Sirius said, leaning back, and Remus nodded and kissed the shoulder without stopping to think. _Oh shit_ , he thought, as Sirius turned to look at him properly and realization hit. He was still searching for an appropriate reply when they were both distracted by McGonagall, who appeared suddenly by the side of the path, demanding to know what had happened to James and Sirius' clothes.


	27. Because It's Always You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 30: Song: Biomusicology, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
> 
> WARNINGS: Boys fighting; boys locked in a broom closet.

"John – _John_ , you're chirping again," Arthur hissed.

"Am _not,_ that's Rabbie," John snapped, and Severus turned his head just long enough to glare them into silence. He could see Evan's feelers dancing across the corridor, where he was hiding behind a tapestry with Amycus, Stephen and Nigel, waiting for the Gryffindors to pass by on their way to the Tower. He flexed his wings – his clear, fragile, _utterly useless_ moth wings – and settled down, wincing at the press of the stone floor against his knees. Pomfrey had promised they would fall off of their own accord, and when they did, he was going to _invent_ some way to make them magically useful, and then he was going to feed it to Potter and his little tribe of syncophants. Hopefully it would give them hives.

"Where _are_ they?" Rabbie muttered, beside him, and Severus shrugged one shoulder.

"You're sure they come this way?" Arthur asked, and Severus heard shuffling, as if he were going to stand up and stick his fool head out.

"Sit _down_ ," he growled, and Arthur dropped into a crouch, his eyes hard with resentment, his green butterfly wings open and closing once.

"Who died and made _you_ the Mugwump?" John said, but softly, and Severus was about to tell him to _shut it_ when Rabbie turned around and hexed his mouth shut. Arthur lunged forward, wand in hand, but Rabbie was faster, and Severus watched him stick Arthur's tongue to his upper lip with a certain amount of grim satisfaction.

There was a long silence, and then they heard the soft _slap swish thump_ of many feet on stone, and the distant echo of girls singing. Rabbie made a contented noise and waved his wand at the other two, just as the first clumps of red and gold clad students passed them by – Severus saw Evans' bright red hair among them, antennae bobbing as she walked – and then came the unmistakable sound of Longbottom tearing into someone.

"Now you know, Potter, that I enjoy a good joke as much as anyone, and that thing you lot did with the flowers, last month, that was a cracking good show –" he said, coming to a halt right in front of the Slytherins hiding place and spreading his praying mantis wings wide. Rabbie snorted quietly, and Severus made a face at Longbottom. _A cracking good show, unless you're allergic to ragweed and spent the day unable to breathe_ , he thought. 

"But this – this is just – why, there are students who are frightened of these – things! Alice and Soleil had to spend their entire morning taking people to the Hospital Wing, because of your thoughtlessness –" Longbottom continued, and Severus could see Black and Pettigrew (cricket and ladybird, respectively) were frowning, their antennae rigid with irritation.

"Look, I _said_ –" Potter began, running his hand through his hair, his lacewings flapping slowly, and Severus saw the skinny half-blood (fuzzy wings, probably some sort of moth) tug at his elbow. 

"I don't want to hear it anymore, Potter," Longbottom said, "and if I still have any part of an insect attached to me tomorrow morning, so help me –" he began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a boy – a 6th Year – sporting enormous green moth wings and a worried expression. 

"What is it, Jordan?" Longbottom snapped, and the Jordan made an apologetic noise.

"Quirke sent his Patronus, sir, you're needed in Ravenclaw," he said, and Severus saw Longbottom press his fingers along the ridges of his eyes. "Clearwater's stuck Corner to the side of the Tower – the outside of the Tower, that is, sir, and Quirke says he can't get him down," Jordan added, and Longbottom nodded once at Potter and strode away, shouting at Jordan to go for Flitwick, and folding his wings as he walked.

"Arsehole," Black said, Pettigrew made a huffing noise and Potter sighed.

"I'm sorry," Lupin murmured, his head bowed, and Potter patted him on the shoulder.

"'s all right, Remus, it was fun while it lasted," he said, and re-adjusted his bag. Severus stood up and sent two green sparks floating out of his wand, and saw Evan reply with two red ones.

"Don't see how they knew it was us – might not have been," Pettigrew muttered.

"Because it's _always_ you, you dunderhead," Severus said, stepping out and smiling at the terrified expression on Pettigrew's face. 

"Oi!" Black said, and raised his wand, just as Evan stepped forward and hit him with a pushing hex that toppled both him and Potter. After that, things went quite quickly; Severus was half-aware of Stephen and Nigel moving to opposite sides of the corridor to stand guard as Potter and Black hurtled to their feet and the jinxes began to fly in earnest. He had landed a few good hexes when Black got him in the ankle with a tripping jinx and knocked him down; as he got to his feet he saw John and Arthur had pinned Pettigrew in a corner, and then he heard Amycus cry out when Lupin managed to hit him with something – possibly a bruising hex, since there didn't seem to be any blood. 

"I _hate_ bugs," Rabbie snarled, sending a slashing hex at Potter, who ducked, and then fired off a punching hex that send Rabbie sprawling on the floor.

"But antennae look so _good_ on you," Black simpered, moving to stand next to Potter, but keeping his wand trained on Evan and Amycus, "they match your eyes and everything –" he added, and then Severus heard John and Arthur both scream as Lupin yanked on their wings to pull them off of Peter.

"Insolent half-breed," John said, as Peter scurried towards Potter and Black, and then added something so filthy even Severus felt his breath catch. Lupin went rigid, but only for a moment, and then Potter let out a roar and the battle was rejoined. Severus had ducked several flashes of blue light and sent off a hex that spun Black around, knocked him over and sent him skidding down the corridor on his hands and knees in quite a satisfactory manner when he heard Stephen shout that someone was coming.

The Gryffindors paused and looked around – which they soon realized was a mistake, as Amycus and Nigel lumbered forward and tucked one of them under each of their massive arms, and walked off down the corridor, Rabbie, Arthur and John hard at their heels, shouting abuse. Severus rested his hands on his knees and focused on slowing his breathing, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Evan had caused his wand to sprout a brush and was tidying his hair.

"Hurry up," Stephen shouted, and Severus heard doors creaking open and slamming shut and three or four sets of voices shouting locking and silencing charms and then the others came back, Amycus grinning broadly.

"That'll teach 'em," Arthur said, and Severus noted his natural pompousness has reasserted itself now that the enemy was safely locked in a cupboard.

"Well done, gentlemen," Evan said, "now, who else fancies going back to the Common Room and mugging my wee cousin for his cupcakes, fresh from home just this morning?" 

Severus sighed and shook his head – he was not especially in the mood for dealing with an indignant Regulus Black, no matter how tasty the cupcakes. Evan gave them all a broad smile, and any objections Severus might have made were drowned out by a chorus of agreement as they moved down the hall, breaking into smaller groups to try and fool the oncoming Prefects.

**

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"Let us OUT, you wankers," Sirius roared, and continued to pound on the door.

"Sirius?" Remus said, crouching down in the darkness, feeling around the floor for his wand. "Sirius, no-one can hear us," he said, louder, fingers closing around his quarry. Sirius kicked the door a few times and swore some more. Remus inhaled deeply and made a face. The cupboard smelled musty, and he had the feeling there were – _things_ – mops, buckets, brooms – lurking somewhere in the back. 

"There's at least two locking charms on that door," Remus said, and he heard Sirius' head go thunk against the wood. "And I distinctly heard Lestrange cast a silencing charm –"

"Bulstrode, too," Sirius said, and Remus made a face in the darkness. "I reckon they did the same to James and Peter," he added, and made a soft noise that could have been amusement or admiration, Remus wasn''t sure. 

"Bugger," Remus said, with feeling. "Well -- _lumos_ ," he murmured, and the broom—cupboard – they were in was bathed in soft golden light.

" _Alohamora_ ," Sirius said, and nothing happened, so he said it again, louder, and battered at the door with his shoulder. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and waited, suddenly uncomfortable being trapped in a small space with Sirius. They had been awkward with each other all day, despite the initial success of their prank, and Remus was growing increasingly certain he had to do – or say – something, about the kiss. 

Apologizing, presenting himself to be punched in the face, and swearing to never do it again had all crossed his mind, but another part of him – the insane part, he was coming to realize – kept insisting that Sirius had _kissed him too_ , and it wasn't all his fault, and that clearly they should _talk_ about this, although Remus had no idea what he was going to actually _say_. In fact, he didn't even know how to start the conversation. _You know, Sirius, recently we seem to have developed the habit of kissing each other. What do you reckon we should do about it?_ Somehow he didn't think that would get him very far. The best thing for all concerned was clearly for him to – to just _get over it_ somehow. Possibly with the help of an _Obliviate_ , though that would mean telling _someone else_ about the kissing.

"Merlin's scrofulus balls," Sirius said, and leaned against the door. "Mer-fucking Slytherins," he added, and Remus wondered how long it would take for someone in the Tower to realize they were missing and come looking for them. That was, if anyone _would_ come looking for them, which at the moment he wasn't so sure about. 

Remus raised his wand and squinted at Sirius in the dim light; his hair was askew and there was a bruise starting to bloom over his right cheekbone, his robes were torn from where Snape had sent him skidding down the hallway, his antennae were hanging limply in his face and his expression suggested he was in pain. He was, also, impossibly attractive, and looking at him made Remus want to kiss him really rather a lot, which was not helpful. Remus moved forward and reached out for Sirius' hands, to try and assess the damage, and was more irritated than surprised that he jerked them out of the way before he could see them properly. 

"Look, I'm sorry, at least one of the times I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened, and I won't do it again, and you can punch me in a minute," he said, and paused, wondering when his mouth had stopped taking direction from his brain. Sirius blinked at him, his antennae waving slowly. "The kissing, Sirius, it happened twice it won't happen again, now give me your hands," Remus added, irritation over-riding apprehension, and he took advantage of Sirius' blank look to grab one wrist and flip the hand over. 

"Three times," Sirius said, softly, as Remus applied a numbing charm to his abraded palms and wrists.

"Twice," Remus muttered, "once when you were a girl, and then again yesterday – hold still, now, this might sting a little," he added, and turned his wand so the tip was resting on Sirius' forearm and murmured an antiseptic charm he had learned from Pomfrey.

"And on Sunday," Sirius said, and Remus felt the muscles in his arm clench once. "When Peter brought you back from the Hospital Wing – you, er, were playing at being a vampire, gave me a bit of a love bite – " he paused, and Remus raised his head slowly.

"I gave you a -- _what?_ You told me I was babbling about wanting to suck your blood –" he began, horrified. They had all come back from dinner bursting with the news that Snape had come to dinner wearing what appeared to be clown make-up and a red nose, and then James had done an imitation of him spinning in circles, and Peter had told him the bit about acting like a vampire, though now that he thought about it, Sirius had fidgeted all the way through that part of the story. 

"I – James took it off me – you were – you weren't well, and – you were off your face anyway, and you didn't remember – and – and I liked it, all right," Sirius said, irritation slipping into his voice as well. "Ow, Moony, that _hurts_ ," he added, and tried to pull his hand back, but Remus tightened his grip. "Anyway you _were_ babbling about wanting to suck my blood – "

"You liked it," Remus said, and Sirius sighed. Remus let go of his wrist and took the other one with the part of his brain that was still functioning. 

"Yes, I did, and I liked it yesterday when you kissed my shoulder, as well, and also the time when I was a girl, if you really must know, you were the best kiss I had the whole time, and –" he broke off and there was a very long silence. Remus applied the numbing and antiseptic charms to the arm he was holding and realized he wasn't thinking clearly at all.

"Right," Remus said, looking up, "right, we're going to sort this out now." He dropped Sirius' arm, and then watched as Sirius stood up as straight as he could manage, and put his chin up and set his shoulders. Remus raised a hand and moved it to rest against Sirius' neck, careful not to apply too much pressure, and smiled faintly when Sirius' eyes went wide.

"Right," he said, and took a deep breath. "We're both ourselves – in our own bodies, I mean, and I'm in my right mind, mostly, I think, although one could make an argument that I'm not, and there isn't any funny fertility magic hanging about in here," Remus said, "that I know of, I mean, I didn't check, Filch could have made a cutting, thought I don't want to know what he's using it for if he did –"

"Remus," Sirius said, quietly, a little bit of laughter in his voice, "shut _up_ ," and then Remus felt an arm slip around his waist, and closed his eyes, and there were lips (dry, a little chapped) on his, and then a tongue, which felt odd in his mouth, odd but pleasant, yes, especially when he applied a little bit of suction (Sirius made a noise that was half squeak and half moan) and then someone was sucking on his tongue, which really very nice, but after a while he wanted his tongue back, so he applied his teeth to the lips and then Sirius started chewing on him as well, which was half pleasant and half kind of annoying, but still mostly fine, and then the lips and teeth moved off onto his chin and down his neck, and he absorbed the new sensations for a while before pulling away. 

"You didn't like it," Sirius said, in a small voice, and Remus shook his head, trying to locate some words. Finding the words, yes, that was very important. "You did like it?" Sirius asked, and Remus nodded. He felt the arm pulling him in again, and pushed away, shaking his head.

"Now what?" Sirius asked, sounding sad again.

"What – what if it all goes pear-shaped?" Remus managed, giving himself a shake, yes, that was one of the many important questions, right up there with _What are we going to tell James and Peter?_ "And we – hate each other, afterwards. And – and – Sirius, what are we doing?"

"Kissing, I think," Sirius said, resting his head against the door, "and you said, before, when I was being an arse, that you were allowed kissing, so I reckon I am, too, and therefore, we should be, allowed, together, that is," he added, and Remus blinked, considering that statement. 

"We could – there's this tradition – maybe your Dad would have mentioned it –" Sirius began, looking at his shoes, and Remus snorted.

"He and Mum ran off to Gretna Green and Grandmother Lupin cut them out of her will on the same day," he said, and Sirius made a startled noise. "She had to put him back in, later, after Grandpa found out what she'd done, but –" Remus shrugged. "He died when I was two, and all Dad's ever said on the subject was that honeymooning in Italy in the springtime was a bit chilly and I should remember to pack woolens if I ever did it."

"Er – well, he's right– anyway, the tradition is – once the parents have given permission, the courting couple, has three months – 90 days – to decide if they want to write a contract on each other, or not, and if they do, fine, and if not, well, all parties are excused, no hard feelings, in theory," Sirius said, looking up, "and we could do something – like that."

"Courting couple," Remus murmured, "what – I mean – am I meant to bring you flowers? Carry your books? Hold your hand?"

"Ugh, Merlin, no, and I'm not doing any of that to you, either," Sirius said, "because we aren't girls, Remus. Just – I don't know, sit next to each other at meals and maybe write every day, in the summer, and well, the kissing, that would be good–" he continued, and Remus frowned at him.

"We do that anyway, Sirius, except for the kissing, I mean," he said, and then Sirius moved his head and there was more tongue and more chewing and Remus relaxed against Sirius' chest and tried not to think or worry, too much. He was dimly aware of his wings falling off and hitting the floor with a gentle _plop_ , followed by Sirius' antennae.

Sometime later they heard Mrs. Norris yowling, and someone who sounded a lot like Longbottom answered her, and they had just enough time to stop what they were doing and straighten their clothes before the door popped open and they were hustled off to the Hospital Wing with James and Peter.


End file.
